Tales From the Finalizer
by Airelle Vilka
Summary: Hux hated Kylo Ren's temper, his disdain for hierarchy and rules; almost as much as he hated her propriety and her perfectly pressed uniform. But they were more similar than either cared to admit. A collection of stories about the love/hate relationship between Hux and Ren, featuring cameos by Phasma, Finn, Poe, and others. AU where Hux is female.
1. Tale One: Game, Set, Match (Part I)

**Tales From the Finalizer**

 **By: Lena (Airelle Vilka)**

* * *

Author's Note: This is meant to be a collection of short stories about Ren and Hux. _AU in one way: General Hux is a woman_. After seeing the movie, I found the Hux/Ren rivalry intriguing, almost like a Tarkin/Vader thing. But I thought the dynamic would be even more interesting if the general were female. To my knowledge, I'm the first FFN author to do so. So here is my foray into this love/hate, but mostly hate, relationship. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

* * *

 **TALE ONE – Game, Set, Match**

 _In which Ren accepts a bet, and Hux makes an attempt at work-life balance._

 **Part I of II**

* * *

While it cannot be said that Kylo Ren took pleasure in anything, getting on General Hux's nerves came pretty damn close.

He slouched by the door of the officers' meeting chamber, projecting boredom as much as he could without removing his helmet. His presence unnerved the other officers; their Force signatures trembled slightly whenever one of them passed his gaze over Ren's dark shadow.

Not so with Emmeline Hux. The damn woman didn't even blink when he'd stalked into the room, merely coughed and shuffled her papers. They were discussing plans for the new weapon, dubbed Starkiller, and she rose among her subordinates at the oval table, sharp and immaculate, like a polished halberd.

"Ren." Her voice sliced through his musings. "I suppose you have no objections to any of this."

He tipped his head at her, the only indication of attention, and put his voice into the laziest drawl he could muster. "Do whatever you think necessary... General." He held out the last word, just long enough to be insolent, and saw a flash of annoyance in her ice-blue eyes.

 _Success_.

Her back stiffened just enough for him to catch it, but she smoothly went on to the next topic; none of the other officers seemed to have noticed the exchange.

Ren's lips curled into a grin beneath his mask. He knew he irritated her immensely, had seen cracks in her glacial composure when she read yet another report of the property damage he'd caused in one of his rages. She hated his temper, his disdain for hierarchy and rules, almost as much as he hated her propriety and her perfectly pressed uniform.

But even he had to admit that Hux had vision, and ambition, and passion. It blazed through her like wildfire, most obviously in her many public speeches, and he could understand _that_ at least, because it was a Dark Side quality. In fact, if he got around to thinking (not that he thought about her _that_ often), Ren was forced to concede that she would have made an excellent convert, if she were Force sensitive. He only had to see one of her speeches to know she could, and would, walk through fire to get what she wanted. She hadn't become Snoke's chosen leader without reason, made all the more impressive by her relative youth. Grudgingly, and only in the privacy of his own thoughts, Ren had to agree she deserved the post.

Moreover, unlike the others, "friend" and enemy alike, Hux did not fear him, not even when she first took command of the _Finalizer._ Ren remembered their initial meeting, her crisp steps on the durasteel floor, that unwavering blue gaze underneath a horribly severe bun common to female staff. She had made a polite nod, unfazed by the stench of fear permeating the room from the other First Order officers. She had not succumbed to the heavy pressure of his presence, his towering form, or even the mask and robes and the very clear threat of the lightsaber at his belt. He had been frankly shocked, and glad for the safety his helmet provided in hiding his facial expression.

From the very beginning, the woman alternately infuriated and intrigued him. And, as the months passed on the First Order's flagship, Ren's curiosity finally won over aversion, and in his spare time, he set himself to the task of finding the chinks in Emmeline Hux's armor. Snoke had forbidden him from reading her mind, probably for his own amusement, for he had clearly noticed the hostility between his two representatives. In any case, Ren was pretty sure Hux would be able to sense a mental invasion; he imagined her mind as a series of meticulously arranged, coded and alphabetized shelves, and anything out of place would surely not go unnoticed.

Other options were very much open, however. His station as Snoke's apprentice made him virtually untouchable, and he flaunted that to Hux whenever possible. She couldn't punish him, could barely reprimand him, and even then never in front of anyone else for fear of Snoke's wrath (his Master seemed to be the only one with the ability to unnerve her). Her relative powerlessness when it came to Ren infuriated Hux, he could sense it. Determined to uncover more information to aid him, he read every datafile on her, both from the First Order and from her days at the infamous Imperial Academy on Arkanis. While most of it was boring academia, some files were intriguing. And it was the content of one of those files that led Kylo Ren straight to the officers' training quarters one morning.

She didn't see him for a long while, further confirming his suspicion that she wasn't Force sensitive. He relaxed against the wall in relative shadow, watching her beat the stuffing out of a training bag. Her movements were clipped and precise, with quick strikes from hands and feet, meant to incapacitate her opponent with minimal damage to herself. He supposed she had to do it this way, being slight and thin, clearly unable to take a prolonged assault from a bigger enemy.

He stepped forward, but she was still so focused on pummeling the bag that she didn't notice until he was a few feet away. He paused to take his rival in; her pale skin was flushed with exertion and shone with sweat, every muscle taut beneath her gray bodysuit. Her carefully styled hair was now a messy bob of red curls, some plastered to her forehead. Ren's breath caught in his throat as she delivered another blow to the bag, sending stuffing flying. Determination rolled off her body in waves, strong enough to make him shudder; he had never seen her look so undone and yet so magnificently focused.

For a moment, Kylo Ren was very human and very confused at his own thoughts, and she, of course, chose that very moment to notice him.

"What the blazing hell are you doing?" They were alone in the room, a servant having entered with water and towels, frozen in horror, and then left as fast as his legs could carry him.

Ren rallied, forcing disdain into his voice. "Watching what I presume is your juvenile attempt at hand-to-hand combat."

Hux usually reminded him of an icy mountain on Hoth, but now she looked more like a dormant volcano, the ice cracking to reveal the waiting, boiling magma. She wiped a hand across her sweaty face, appraising him with all the arrogance of the First Order, poster child of it that she was. But she said nothing.

"I've been reading," he continued, "about your exploits at the Academy. Seems you had quite the reputation."

Hux quirked an eyebrow at him, still breathing hard yet clearly trying to regain command of her voice. "And you came all the way here to tell me that?"

"I wanted to see for myself what skill you possessed. You won the cadet combat tournament at the age of fifteen. I confess I expected something... extraordinary." He made a show of looking her up and down in an unimpressed fashion.

To his surprise, she laughed, a high and clear sound that bounced off the walls. "Sorry to disappoint you, Ren." She made a mock bow, her bodysuit straining with the effort. "I will try to restrain myself from sobbing uncontrollably."

Behind his mask, he almost smiled. "See that you do. It's unfortunate for the First Order to be led by a woman, let alone a weak one."

Her response was a sudden motion. Ren almost stepped back, but the Force stopped him in the knowledge she wasn't going to attack him. He stayed motionless as she delivered a round kick to the bag, hard enough to send it flying off its chain and into a pile of training weights. The pulse of rage from her was delicious, making him giddy and now wholly certain he had found a sore point.

"I sense," she said icily in the terrible din as the weights crashed and clattered, "that you do not approve of my position on this ship."

"I wonder what gave you that idea." Ren kept his voice in the measured drawl he knew she hated. Maybe she'd lash out at him and give him a reason to hurt her. And with the confusing thoughts in his mind earlier, hurting her, even killing her, would be smart. She was clearly dangerous, and would only become more so with the growth of the Order's power.

"Good thing, then," she sneered, "that your approval isn't worth spit. Supreme Leader Snoke chose me personally to lead his assault, and last I heard, his _lapdog_ doesn't have the authority to question me."

Kylo Ren saw red, his fists clenching as he contemplated crushing her long, pale throat on the spot. She clearly noticed his change in posture, but kept her stance without a trace of fear as the crackling buzz of his lightsaber filled the space.

"Watch where you point that thing," she warned quietly as he advanced on her. "Your damn temper won't be the death of me."

He had to give her some credit for standing her ground. Running was useless; he was between her and the exit, and had the Force at his command. He knew he could kill her easily now. And he also knew, just as easily, that he would not. She was too useful to Snoke. And where others faced with his wrath had dissolved into a quivering mess, Hux blazed in fury, challenging him. The perfect left hand to his right, with Snoke guiding them both.

He exhaled, now just a foot away, and deactivated the saber. From here, he could see every freckle on her face, her pink lips pursed into a tight line. She also let out a breath, and he heard the whine of a blaster being powered down. Somehow, she had one in her hand, pointed straight at his abdomen. As his anger dissipated, he wondered where it came from, or how he could have missed it.

For a few silent heartbeats, they regarded each other.

"If you're so convinced of my weakness," she suddenly said, "why not a friendly challenge?"

He stared at her, curiosity tugging at him despite his first instincts. When he didn't reply, she continued, and he didn't like the smug look in her bright, blue eyes.

"A martial challenge, if you will. Ten minutes of combat with non-edged weapons. No using your... hokey stuff or mind tricks. Just pure fighting prowess. The one with least injuries at the end wins."

Ren barked out a laugh. "Are you joking?"

But she wasn't, not in the way she looked at him, and suddenly he felt they had reached an interesting point in their non-relationship.

"If you win," she said, "you get to skip every boring protocol meeting for the next three months. And I'll deliver the reports from those meetings, along with your dinner, to you personally each night during that time. Like a weak _woman_ should."

He imagined her at his door with a food tray in her hands, a proud General reduced to a common servant. It was a tempting offer, an easy way to stomp all over her authority. His thoughts ran away with the possibilities, the little humiliations he could enforce on her for three whole months. He looked at their reflections in the mirror on the far wall, her small body dwarfed by his muscular frame. Oh, she had no chance of winning, even if he didn't use the Force.

He almost agreed outright, before remembering something crucial, yet silly because it would never happen.

"And if you win?" he asked, voice rasping through the filter in his helmet.

She regarded him evenly, her answer immediate. "You take off your mask and show me your face."

Ren grimaced. It was a shrewd request. His persona on the ship was drenched in secrecy and terror. Few (mostly medics) had ever seen his face, and he could recall on one hand the number of instances he had taken off his mask in the presence of another. If Hux saw him without it, it would severely undermine him.

His face, he knew, was not threatening. It was soft, with big dark eyes and full lips. He had felt some wisps of attraction in the pool of fear among the female medics who had seen it, knew they found him handsome. He had been surprised to hear their clear, if terrified, thoughts. Truthfully, he hated the sight of himself, and only looked in the mirror to shave. His face, those eyes, made him human, vulnerable. Less like his grandfather and more like...

He shook his head, banishing the thoughts of his old life, returning his gaze to Hux. It didn't matter. She would lose.

"Done," he replied, and she smiled.

"Let's get started then."

* * *

It occurred to Captain Phasma, as she watched the unusual scene unfold before her, that she had never seen General Hux fight. Sure, they'd been out on TIE training runs, and sometimes the General would join them in her own ship, to "stretch her legs" as she called it. Phasma recalled that Hux was a fairly decent pilot, if a bit rigid in her maneuvers. But she'd never seen the General raise a hand to anyone, let alone what was happening now.

It had started a few minutes prior, in the large communal training room. Phasma had looked up from her own sparring match to see the General enter with purpose in her face. As the various officers and soldiers scrambled from their exercise mats to salute, Hux had ignored them all and walked to a wall panel. Removing two practice staves from the alcove, she'd turned on her heel and left in total silence.

Phasma knew she should probably not pry, but curiosity got the better of her, especially when the noises started. It was the unmistakable sound of a full-on fight, and it was pretty close to the hallway through which the General had left. Telling herself that she was just going to check for security purposes, Phasma walked to the console that held camera views of the entire training facility. A few button clicks brought her to the hallway in question, which connected the communal rooms to the officers' private training quarters.

Behind her, Phasma heard a gasp.

"What the balls?" Major Geerts, a beefy man puffing from exercise, stood gaping at the screen and the scene transpiring therein. Some lower-ranking officers were also gathering for a closer look, and Phasma quickly shut off the feed.

"Sir," she managed as respectfully as possible, "I believe we are intruding on a private matter."

"Damn right we are," he grinned, his ruddy face still in disbelief, and shoved past her to turn the camera back on. Worse still, he projected the feed to the bigger screen on the wall, thereby showing the entire room what was happening. Phasma cringed and stepped away. He outranked her, but he was stupid. If either of the two people on the screen discovered this little broadcast, it would be the end of him, and anyone else in the room for that matter.

But, horrified as she was at the thought of being killed in the middle of her rather stellar career, Phasma could not look away.

They circled each other within a radius that was just out of reach of their weapons. Phasma had never seen Kylo Ren without his cloak, and noted that his lithe, muscular body left little to be desired. He was dressed in form-fitting black from head to toe, with a wide belt from which hung his infamous lightsaber. Phasma noted he refrained from using it, which meant this was not a "real" fight. The intensity in his stance, however, picked up by the enhanced camera, spoke volumes about how much it mattered.

The General was clearly holding her own. Her hair was a mess and she was dripping with sweat, but her stance was relaxed, even swaying. Phasma knew this fighting style, knew how disarming it could seem until the strike was delivered. The general reminded her of a snake, or a quick bird of prey, facing off against Ren's predatory strides, his slow circle like a Takodana wolf waiting for a chance at the death blow. Phasma realized she was holding her breath.

"Holy shit," said Geerts behind her. "I knew the General had balls, but that seems pretty suicidal."

"Why are they fighting, sir?" asked someone else, hesitant and clearly of lower rank.

"Who the fuck cares?" Geerts chortled. "This is a show I don't want to miss."

Phasma gritted her teeth. The idiot. Whatever compelled Kylo Ren to spar with Hux, she was sure it wasn't good. Ren had never gone into the training facility before, choosing to practice... whatever it was he did... on his own. His presence here meant he sought the General out on purpose. And Kylo Ren with a purpose never bode well.

Phasma smiled despite herself. She had noticed the tension between Ren and Hux on several occasions, but never paid it much mind, attributing it to the stress of daily life on the _Finalizer_. But perhaps it was more personal. It certainly seemed that whatever animosity lurked between them had finally found an outlet. In a way, Phasma was almost glad. Nothing like a good fight to put things back in order. She supposed even someone as remotely human as Ren needed it, too.

As the gathered crowd watched, Ren finally made his move, and Phasma knew Hux had been relying on his impatience. She stepped easily to the side, lashing out to throw him off balance, but the dark warrior was phenomenally quick, blocking her strike with his own weapon, and stepping away again. They were still testing each other, Phasma realized, still not willing to unleash a full assault until they'd tasted each other's will to fight.

Anticipation coiled in her belly as she watched them, and a rush of blood flooded her cheeks. Phasma was glad she was at the forefront of the crowd, where no one could see her flushed face and dilated pupils. Seeing this dance excited her more than she cared to admit. It had been a long time since she'd seen two equally matched opponents go all-out. On camera, General Hux licked her lips and spoke. They couldn't hear it, but Phasma imagined she was taunting Ren into another attack.

It worked. He lunged, and the General parried his blow, aiming a kick to his neck. Ren grabbed her ankle and yanked, sending her flying to the floor. She rolled away as his staff bounced off the mat where she'd been a second before, and came to her feet in time to parry another blow. Like two electrons, they fell apart again, and then crashed together at dizzying speed, again and again, a blur of grey and red and black.

Captivated as she was, Phasma didn't notice Geerts stream the sound feed from the camera into the room. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sharp breathing of the combatants. Hux had sustained a few solid blows, and blood trickled down her pale neck. Ren's injuries were hidden by the head-to-toe suit, but his slight limp signaled that Hux had landed a few hits of her own. He tilted his helmet at her, voice ragged through the speaker.

"Had enough, General?"

Hux spat out blood and chuckled. The action was unlike anything Phasma had seen from the normally aristocratic and aloof officer. This was more of a soldier's skirmish, and Phasma wondered just how much she did not know about Emmeline Hux.

"Tell me," she taunted casually, spinning her staff in slow circles, "do the Knights of Ren fuck like they fight? ...Hesitantly?"

Amid the combination of gasps and hoots in the training room, Phasma barely heard Kylo Ren's response. He straightened up, every inch of his impressive height meant to intimidate, his dark aura almost palpable through the camera feed.

"Come closer and I'll show you."

Hux grinned, and Phasma could see how some of the stories about her were justified. The General wasn't just unafraid. She was enjoying this.

 _That is one strange woman,_ the captain thought as Hux attacked again. This time, Ren deflected her strikes over and over, but she kept up the assault, surprisingly driving him a few steps back in sheer ferocity. Her blows were not strong, but they were fast and consecutive, allowing no time for rest. Ren's, on the other hand, were slower but full of strength, and one of them, placed correctly, could easily knock her unconscious.

A swing connected with Hux's torso, and before she could recover, Ren spun her around and dragged her into a chokehold, holding his staff against her throat, pressing her backwards into his solid frame. He lifted her off the ground, forcing her hands to cling to his staff as if she were doing a pull-up to avoid being choked to death. From behind her, his head lowered to the crook of her neck as he spoke, breathing hard, into her ear.

"Yield to me."

She struggled to speak, all efforts focused on keeping the staff from choking her. Ren was clearly stronger, and Hux's face began to grow more red, her eyes more wide.

"He's gonna kill her!" someone yelled in the back, but Phasma waved her hand. She did not believe for a moment that Kylo Ren would do something so stupid.

"Captain, we have to stop him-"

"Hold your positions," Phasma said without turning around. "This isn't over yet."

But Hux was losing her battle quickly, and choked out something that sounded like a curse. The Knight of Ren spoke again, and the command in his voice was unmistakable.

" _Yield_ , Emmeline."

The gathered company murmured in astonishment, as no one, _no one_ , had ever called the General by her given name. This fact also did not escape Hux herself, as her eyes grew wider still. A few seconds passed, and then-

She suddenly went slack in Ren's arms.

Phasma stared, for a moment actually believing he'd choked her into unconsciousness. But as Ren stumbled slightly, caught off balance by the dead weight of her body, the General abruptly raised her heel and slammed it with all her might on the top of Ren's foot. He wore boots, and Phasma wondered with exhilaration why she would deliver a non-damaging blow. The reason became obvious when, instinctively, Ren raised his foot, throwing himself more off kilter. His embrace of Hux slackened, and keeping her grip on his staff, she jerked it up and backwards, ramming him in the face.

Phasma almost laughed out loud as the clang of metal hitting helmet reverberated through the room. The din in Ren's ears must have been awful, for he looked momentarily stunned, and it was all the General needed. She crouched, and with a strength wholly alien to someone her size, grabbed his shoulders and hurled him over her.

The soldiers behind Phasma erupted in cheers as Ren landed on his back with a heavy thud. Hux wasted no time, grabbing her own fallen weapon and straddling him. Her arm rose and fell faster than a blink, and her staff impaled the mat centimeters from his head.

Silence descended as the General glared fiercely at her opponent, crouching over him like a deadly insect, her knees on either side of his neck. Blood dripped from her hair and onto his helmet as she leaned down, cradling his head in an almost lover's embrace. Her forehead touched his, an oddly intimate action in such a dangerous situation.

"We are not," she said, almost too quietly for the speakers to pick up, "on a first name basis."

Ren's chest was heaving, though Phasma was unsure whether it was with anger or surprise. It didn't matter. _She won. I can't believe she fucking won._

"You owe me," Hux said, climbing off the dark figure and fixing him with an imperious stare. "Our deal."

Phasma's eyebrows rose, if possible, even higher.

In response, Kylo Ren stood up and extended a gloved hand. Hux visibly flinched, expecting a Force attack, but he merely called his cloak from the floor into his grasp.

"You should remind your subordinates of the penalties for unsanctioned surveillance," he said, pulling up his hood, all traces of his injuries swallowed by darkness. "Or I will... unpleasantly."

General Hux's brow furrowed as Ren swept from the room without a backward glance. Then, she looked up at the ceiling, straight into the camera, and her face, flushed with victory, quickly changed. The death glare in her blue eyes initiated a very hasty retreat by the crowd in the training room. And as Phasma followed the others out, she fought to keep the grin off her face.

 _I wonder what that bet was about._


	2. Tale One: Game, Set, Match (Part II)

**Tales From the Finalizer**

 **By: Lena (Airelle Vilka)**

* * *

 **TALE ONE – Game, Set, Match**

 **Part II of II**

* * *

"THIS is what you're wearing?"

Hux sighed, already regretting her decision to enter the transport. "My outfit is perfectly acceptable."

"Yeah, for a funeral, or one of your stuffy meetings." Her sister, blindingly bright in a gold dress, gestured to her own outfit. "I was hoping you'd at least look like you had fun outside of work."

"I am never outside of work, Kevyn," Hux bristled as they took off, heading outside the base and into the city. "The only reason I'm here is to make sure you stay out of trouble."

"Who in their right mind would touch the General's own sister? And by the way, you could have sent any of your underlings," came the sly response. "Yet here you are."

Hux fought the old habit of rolling her eyes. Few people could get on her nerves, let alone get away with it. Kevyn was ten years younger, a seductress and socialite, and their father's favorite. Where Emmeline was reprimanded for the smallest errors, Kevyn could have burned down the Academy without Brendol Hux batting an eye. Even years later, Hux thought it a bit unfair that her sister got to gallivant around the Outer Rim unchecked with a full complement of stormtroopers, with no grand plan other than to get herself into as many social circles as possible.

Still, with Kevyn's words fresh in her mind, Hux couldn't help appraising herself in the dark window of the transport. She had switched out her black work shirt for a white one, high-collared with an intricate lace front. It was buttoned all the way to her neck and pinned with the spiked symbol of the First Order, a gift from the Supreme Leader himself. Her black dress pants and jacket completed the look. At her sister's insistence, she left her hat behind and let her hair down instead, the blood-red curls stopping just above her shoulders. Overall, it looked impressive, suitable to her station, and most of all...

"You're not gonna get laid looking like that, Ems," her sister smirked, taking a drink from the bar in their private compartment. "I'm just saying."

Hux glared. "That is most certainly not my intention tonight. In case that wasn't abundantly clear."

"Hmm." Ignoring all protests, Kevyn reached over to tousle Hux's hair, her ample cleavage threatening to escape her dress. "That's too bad. I hear this city has many decent-looking men. I'm sure not a single one could refuse you."

"Due to my rank," Hux replied stiffly, smoothing her hair back into place. "A rank which, by the way, does not allow for fraternization. It is against Order rules, it upsets the power balance, and places me at great risk to boot."

Kevyn grinned. "Listen to yourself. 'Upsets the balance?' And what risk? Not like you're marrying them, and unless the guy has a blaster attached to his-"

"Enough," Hux waved her arms. "I don't need mental images on top of my headache."

Her sister fixed her with an appraising look, one that even someone with Hux's stoicism had no choice but to fidget under. "When was the last time you bedded a man, huh?"

Hux arranged her napkins, viciously, in a perfect square shape. "That is none of your business."

"So, like three, four years then. Seriously, what's the point of achieving so much if you don't reap the... fruits of your labor?" Kevyn giggled, downing her drink. "If you were a man, no one would bat an eye."

Hux looked up at her sister. She was beautiful and looked so harmless, but a closer look into the blue eyes that matched Hux's gave a very different story. Hux had heard whispers about her sister, about those who'd wronged her, about what might lurk beneath the mask of the free-spirited socialite. Nothing proven, of course. Kevyn's gaze grew serious, and for just a moment, Hux saw the ruthless streak she knew was there, the streak that blazed through everyone in their bloodline.

"Fuck the _life_ out of them, Emmeline," she said. "You're on top now, and they all belong to you."

And just like that, the fire was gone, and Kevyn was herself again, golden and glittering. Hux sighed, finding herself suddenly glad that her sister had never been interested in politics.

"Never one to mince words, are you?"

"Learned it from someone older and wiser," Kevyn winked. "Ah, we're here!"

Before Hux could protest, she was summarily dragged out of the transport and into the brightness of a street lamp. When her eyes adjusted, she found herself at the threshold of what looked like an old hangar. Lights of all colors sliced out of the windows into the night sky, and the music was deafening even from here. People milled about, laughing, some leaning on each other. The unmistakable scent of alcohol and perfume assaulted her nostrils, and Hux wanted nothing more than to climb back into the transport and return to the comfortable sterility of the base, or even go to orbit to rejoin the _Finalizer_ as it underwent repairs. She saw it in the sky, huge and inviting, and felt a twitch of longing.

"Come on, Ems!" Kevyn tugged on her jacket. "Don't be so stiff, this'll be fun."

Kevyn's private guard, dressed casually but with very visible blasters, silently filed out of the transport and started to follow. She waved them back.

"Oh, we'll be fine, boys," she grinned, winking at Hux. "I have the best protection imaginable."

Hux sighed for the second time that night as she followed her sister into the hangar, and into the roar of the crowd.

* * *

She had never felt more exposed.

The hangar had been converted into a nightclub of sorts, with an enormous central floor surrounded by observation platforms connected by staircases. Hux's boots clanked on the metal steps as she ascended to the top deck. The entire city was decidedly Order-friendly, local businesses supporting the enormous planetary bases and industries. Here on the ground, the atmosphere was more relaxed than on the dreadnoughts and destroyers; off-duty soldiers and officers mixed freely with the locals. Hux noted, grudgingly, that this was probably necessary. Outside the highly regulated space of a Star Destroyer, the lure of the city, and local "delights," was too much. It was easier to send the soldiers for reconditioning rather than forbid all outside contact while on-planet.

Still, there was contact, and then there was ... this.

She made it to the top level, her blaster comfortably close inside her jacket. She could see Kevyn at the bar, already putting the moves on a man who'd caught her fancy. Hux positioned herself high above the dance floor, her sister always within sight. Kevyn's guards had also made it inside, positioning themselves at the perimeters, close enough to intervene should the need arise. She breathed deeply, trying to calm her natural paranoia around so many unknown people, uncontrolled variables.

 _I should have just sent someone else to watch her,_ she thought, and immediately knew it to be a lie. Kevyn may have run around unchecked across half the Outer Rim, but when she was here, she was still Hux's sister, and this place was still outside the base. Her grip tightened on the railing, her eyes scanning the crowd, looking for potential threats. But all she saw was a throng of dancing bodies, some in clothing she recognized as military issue, others in standard ensembles, others bright like Kevyn's, and still others with barely any clothes at all.

Two levels below and to her right, a group of men caught her attention. They sat around a low table, drinking and laughing. How anyone could hear themselves, let alone anyone else, she could not fathom. They wore dressed-down uniforms, the collars and jackets opened, their hair intentionally disordered. Hux thought it looked rather sloppy, especially for officers, but the women with them didn't seem to mind. They were locals, quite pretty and petite, and decidedly in the "barely any clothes" category.

Captain Phasma was in the center of the group.

Hux recognized her immediately, for the captain, even out of her trademark chrome armor, was an impressive woman. Her shock of closely cropped blonde hair and sky-blue eyes stood out even in the gloom. Well, that, _and_ she was built like a freezer unit.

She watched Phasma whisper in the ear of one of the women, who giggled and climbed onto her lap. The captain rather casually draped a huge arm around the woman's waist, gently rubbing her thigh as she continued her conversation with the men. Hux raised her eyebrows, filing the information away for another day. She knew Phasma was on-planet, but assumed she was on the base, as she seemed to share Hux's devotion to work.

 _Yet here we both are,_ she thought, turning her eyes back to the floor. _So much for one-track minds._

A waitress carrying a giant tray of identical drinks motioned in her direction, and, after a moment of hesitation, Hux took one. Although the chance of poisoning was small, she prided herself on calculated risk-taking. She removed a small pill from her pocket and dropped it into the drink. After a few seconds, it dissolved and the liquid faded into a pleasant green color.

 _Purple means poison, green means go,_ she recited and, with a mental shrug, took a sip. It was stronger than anything available on the _Finalizer_. It seemed to be a local brew, the most popular menu item, probably for its potency rather than taste. Grimacing, Hux took another sip, feeling the liquor burn through her veins. The music was much more tolerable this way, the roar somewhat dulled, along with the paranoia.

Her fingers fidgeted with the pin at her throat. The air was hot, heavy with sweet musk, and for a second she wished she could be as unbridled as the people below, dancing away in the maelstrom of light, as if there were no rules to make, no planets to govern, no order at all.

She shook her head. _Not me,_ she thought. _Simply can't be me, ever._

Staring thoughtfully into her drink, and the shining figure of her sister on the floor below, Hux didn't notice the man next to her until he was talking.

"Some party, huh?"

She turned her head slightly. He was tall and handsome, dressed in military black which, to her great surprise, was immaculately buttoned. Hux didn't like strangers or small talk, but his smile was so pleasant that she didn't move away as he continued.

"Although things can get a bit crazy in here. People out of control and all."

"I bet," she replied stiffly, gripping her drink as if it were a lifeline. This was more Kevyn's forte. Hux preferred work to social functions, avoiding them like the wastes of time they were.

The man's smile widened as he casually leaned on the railing, inches away from Hux's forearm. "And you're not one of those people, are you?"

A voice inside her head answered, _no, but I'd like to be._ It urged her to be invisible, to pretend she wasn't Emmeline Hux but someone else, someone without rank or station. Someone who could flirt with this man, touch his arm, and ease herself into the warm pool of being enjoyed by another.

But after a moment, Hux came back to herself. The disarming tone, the charm, the _ease_ with which he thought he could snag her, sent her into a simmering fury. Who did he think he was?

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think, her voice a shard of ice. "Do you know who I am?"

His response was immediate, unfazed by her tone. "A beautiful woman I'd like to talk to."

Hux was so shocked by the candor that she faced him completely now, the bubbles in her drink dancing in the multicolored lights. His clothes were First Order issue, so he had to know her identity; every soldier had seen her speeches.

"Cut the crap, officer," she snapped, glaring up at him, willing him to cower. "I'm not in the mood."

Once again, to her surprise, he didn't flinch. "You're also General Hux, commander of the _Finalizer_ , and the highest ranking officer of the First Order's fleet." His brown eyes shone with amusement. "But by your clothes and location, you are not here on official business."

Hux stared at him.

"Hence," he continued, "I reiterate... a beautiful woman I'd like to talk to. Assuming she doesn't shoot me for my audacity."

Despite herself, Hux tried not to smile, and turned away to face the dance floor again. "That's a rather large assumption."

Just within her peripheral vision, he nodded. "It is. But you haven't done it yet, so I'm clearly winning."

"Clearly," she agreed, shaking her head in disbelief. Whoever he was, the man was persistent. If his boldness weren't so ridiculous, it would be flattering. Then again, Hux had not fraternized in this fashion for a long time; perhaps she was out of practice, or had encountered an exceptionally brazen specimen.

He gave her a half-bow, the formal version of an officer's salute. "Lieutenant Ravin Prentiss, of the Destroyer _Arcana._ You look different from the holovids of your speeches, ma'am."

Hux raised her eyebrows at him. In response, he made a sweeping gesture with a large hand, indicating her outfit. He had long, elegant fingers, she noticed.

"No hat, no insignia, and your hair... It's no wonder most people in here aren't aware of your presence," he said. "Or they're all drunk. If they knew, I imagine they'd behave better."

They looked out over the balcony, watching Phasma's group get more rowdy and loud. Hux sighed. "I doubt it, Lieutenant. Besides, my mission tonight doesn't include babysitting my subordinates."

Silence reigned for a while, and Hux almost thought he got bored when he spoke again, his voice taking on a sly tone. "Does it include dancing?"

She nearly spit out her drink, turning to him again in shock and more than a little trepidation. "Are you serious?"

He grinned, rather sheepishly. "As the grave, General. Might be my own grave, but when I saw you walk in, I had to ask."

Hux looked down. Below her, Kevyn was dancing with the man she'd chosen, looking like she was having the time of her life. But this was her world, not the world of Emmeline Hux. She wasn't the type to lounge in a dance hall, drinking and contemplating close proximity to a man she didn't know. A man who had, in the intervening moments, gotten much closer than before. He didn't seem dangerous, at least not in the usual way. Still, Hux paused.

"Why?" she asked, her sister's instruction to 'reap the fruits of your labor' dancing in her head.

"Lost a bet to my buddy," he shrugged. "Also, curiosity. I imagine you are a fascinating woman. I wanted to get to know you before someone else did."

She eyed him crossly. "That's a big risk if you know my station, Lieutenant Prentiss. It would be unwise to disappoint me."

He nodded. "I never said I was smart. But I'm counting on, at the very least, not being a disappointment."

"And how," she asked honestly, looking up into his face, "do you propose to 'get to know' me from a dance?"

His eyes darkened, brown melting into black, and Hux's stomach fluttered with a heat she hadn't felt in a while, an insistent little thing, pleasant like wine and just as insidious.

"Ah, now that's something I'd have to show you," he said slowly, offering his arm. "So much can be learned without any words."

 _You're not afraid, are you?_ Kevyn's voice said in her head. Or was it her own voice?

The combination of alcohol and intrigue was a potent one. Besides, if he tried anything, she could always shoot him. Hux downed her drink in a single gulp, and took the proffered arm.

"Lead on, Lieutenant."

* * *

Within the press of bodies on the dance floor, Hux noticed no one except him.

The song had mercifully changed to a slower one, pouring out sensuously over the crowd. It seemed to be about love, and obsession, the latter of which Hux definitely understood.

 _ **"It can't be unlearned, I've known the warmth of your doorways..."**_

The touch of a warm hand at the small of her back returned her to reality. He was close to her now, his other hand grasping hers, his solid body fluidly leading her where he wished. From their proximity, she could tell he was well built. She remembered her fight with Kylo Ren, and his inhuman strength as he nearly choked her to death. Unlike Ren, however, this man's power was mitigated, gentle. Hux almost wished he'd held her tighter.

 _ **"Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you..."**_

The lights had dimmed slightly, throwing his face into shadow. Despite the huge crowd, being in his embrace somehow felt intimate. His hair and outfit blended into the gloom, making him anyone and no one, as if she were dancing with a specter. Hux could see herself reflected in his eyes, a small bright spot winking in a sea of black. Momentarily, she wondered if anyone had noticed, if they were watching. She found she didn't care.

 _ **"Oh please, give me mercy no more..."**_

"Have you learned anything so far?" she asked, leaning closer so he could hear her over the music.

He laughed. She plucked out the rich, deep timbre from the cacophony of sounds, feeling it sink into her bones, setting her nerves alight.

"I'll keep you posted on my progress," he replied, and the heat in his tone was unmistakable. Hux wondered if this was what her sister went through on a daily basis. She'd never allowed herself the luxury of imagining long-term attachments; the Order had seen to that. However... perhaps a short, discreet acquaintance was not entirely out of the question.

 _ **"It's a kindness you can't afford..."**_

She wanted to stop it, truly. People would be watching. Surely he couldn't have been the only one to recognize her. In fact, with just this one dance, she'd probably put him in danger. But Ravin Prentiss seemed like the type of man who could handle himself. And so, instead of turning away, she leaned into him, resting her head on his broad shoulder, her cheek scratching on his uniform. He smelled like smoke, and pine, and something entirely his own, a scent she could not pinpoint, but seemed somehow familiar, and she was inexplicably drawn to it. She inhaled deeply, and felt him smile into her hair.

 _ **"I want you baby tonight, as sure as you're born..."**_

She pulled back to look at him, their faces dangerously close now, breaths intermingling in the sticky air. She licked alcohol off her lips. He'd been drinking, too. Or had he?

The space around them buzzed. Her eyes were locked onto his mouth - _what would he taste like?_ \- and she was certain her hands would be shaking if she hadn't been gripping his jacket. It would mean nothing, this kiss from a stranger, given on a night that would inevitably end. And when it ended, Hux would return to the base, her work would go on, the Order would go on, and she would never see him again. But despite her knowledge that this moment was only a tiny speck in her existence, Hux was sure she'd die if this man kissed her.

 _ **"You'll hear me howling outside your door..."**_

Her voice cracked, barely more than a whisper as he leaned in. "What about now? Have you... learned... something?"

His soft lips brushed hers, the gentlest of touches, like a spring breeze. But beyond it was a precipice, leading to a chasm filled with black fire. There was, indeed, something quite dangerous there, something she could not entirely place. But she looked over the edge, and wanted very much to leap.

He drew her closer, not completing the kiss but instead pulling her entire body to him. His leg parted hers, dragging her center along the solid muscle of his thigh, drawing her flush with him. She was pulsing with energy, apprehension and heat rolled into a delicious tension. She could not imagine what she could feel if that one touch turned into something more, what else he was capable of. His hips rolled slowly into hers, banishing any coherency.

"Yes," he replied, lips still ghosting across hers.

She was very glad he'd lost that bet to whoever it was... that was the reason he'd spoken to her in the first place, wasn't it?

 _Lost a bet,_ her thoughts crawled lazily. _Very glad indeed._

He bypassed her lips, moving to her ear, his dark curls brushing her face. "I have learned a lot, Emmeline."

Hux froze, hyperacutely aware of everything, as if she'd just awakened. His warm breath at her ear, the swell of the music, the pounding of her heart, and most importantly, the rapid-fire thoughts assaulting her drugged brain.

 _Emmeline._

The way he'd said her name. Only one man had done so in recent memory, and he'd said it exactly the same way. While choking her.

 _He lost a bet._

 _Lost a... bet..._

 _...To me._

* * *

Hux remained still, her core still very close to his body; she knew he could feel her, even through the fabric. Her cheeks would have flushed if the blood hadn't fled them in shock moments earlier.

 _You._

He still held her close, nuzzling the shell of her ear, taking his time to speak. His voice sounded amused because he knew her thoughts now, _of course he knew_.

"This was very educational, General," he murmured. "An insight into... character."

And with that, Kylo Ren pulled away, his eyes pitch black, and a most arrogant smirk on his face. Hux gaped at him as their bodies separated, feeling jolts of rage, disgust, and also unhappiness at the loss of contact, which her mind tried to quash furiously. She opened her mouth, and closed it again. No speech seemed forthcoming, so she thought at him as fiercely as possible.

 _I will kill you for this, you son of a bitch._

"I've kept my word," he said. "I _do_ hope it was everything you expected. Have a good evening, General."

And then, he smiled and faded into the crowd, and she didn't remember her blaster until he was well out of sight.

* * *

A few minutes passed before Kevyn found her sister in the middle of the dance floor, staring toward the door. People continued to dance around her, but she was a statue, her arms wrapped around herself, her hair in slight disarray. It was a very unnerving sight, and Kevyn touched her arm.

"Ems? You okay?"

Hux's eyes were closed, and Kevyn realized she was speaking something under her breath. It sounded like "unbelievable bastard."

Just before going to the bar, she'd seen a man dancing with her sister, a tall stranger with long, black hair. But he was gone now, and Hux looked unharmed. Possibly.

Just as Kevyn was becoming worried, Hux opened her eyes. It was almost comforting to see the blue gaze, clear and sharp. A smile crept over her face, and she shook her head.

"I'm fine, Kev."

"Who was that guy?" Something was definitely going on here.

Hux turned and took her sister by the shoulders, beginning to sway to the music. Still wary, Kevyn followed along.

"An old colleague of mine," she replied casually, her tone completely back to normal.

Kevyn glanced at the door, as if expecting something. All she saw was the sea of people, blinking in and out of the pulsating lights. She raised one eyebrow. "Uh huh."

"And a superb holo-chess player," Hux continued, still smiling, but the smile did not quite reach her eyes. Her First Order pin was slightly crooked, but she made no move to fix it. "In fact, I think I'll seek him out again. It's been a while since I _really_ played."

Kevyn wasn't convinced, but allowed her sister to keep her secrets. She was an important person, after all. _And heck,_ she thought as they rejoined the dancing crowd, _at least she looks like she had fun._

* * *

 _END OF TALE ONE_

* * *

Author's Note: Did you see it coming? ;) Kylo had to fulfill his end of the bargain, but he did it in typical dark side fashion, turned it around so that Hux was the vulnerable one when he revealed his face to her. Hee hee. Also, I was feeling poetic... so during their dance, each of the first five paragraphs after the song lyrics is related to the five senses: touch, sight, sound, smell and taste. What song were they dancing to, you ask? Hozier's "It Will Come Back." It's a super sexy song, and yes, in my mind Hozier is famous in a galaxy far far away, lol. Oh, and before you think to yourselves, 'but where did Kylo learn to be so charming?' I would tell you he has the right genes for it. You scruffy nerf-herders. ;)


	3. Tale Two: Bacta

**Tales From the Finalizer**

 **By: Lena (Airelle Vilka)**

* * *

 **TALE TWO: Bacta**

 _In which Hux and Ren deal with the destruction of Starkiller Base._

* * *

"General! Look!"

She turned to where the trooper was pointing. A Corellian YT-model freighter, doubtlessly the _Millennium Falcon,_ was landing not far from their location, its engine lights shining against the burning sky. They were also searching, Hux knew; for the traitor and the girl.

"Should we engage, General?"

The ground beneath her trembled. Going after the _Falcon_ was tempting, but she had her orders, and precious little time to fulfill them. Snoke's final command rang in her ears, and she didn't have to be told what would happen if she failed to retrieve his star student.

"No. Fan out," she said, pulling her winter cloak closer to her face. "Your orders are to locate Kylo Ren and evacuate. Do not pursue any other task on pain of death."

The trooper captain nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

As they dispersed, Hux looked around, straining to see in the growing darkness. The forest was eerily silent, as if accepting its imminent demise. The trees pressed in heavily, black sentinels wreathed in white, branches reaching out like fingers. And no sign of life, anywhere.

She turned in a slow circle, her cloak dragging a track in the snow. The chances of finding Ren before the planet crumbled were slim. His tracker had disappeared from their radars while they were in flight, giving them a two-mile radius to search on foot, as the forest was too thick for speeder bikes. At best, they had an hour.

Hux started walking in a direction where the others had not gone. The remaining troopers made to follow her, but she waved them off.

"Stay with the ship and prepare for immediate evacuation," she commanded. Her gloved hand drifted to the blaster at her hip. "I can defend myself."

Not waiting for an answer, she took off into the trees. As the canopy enveloped her, she lit a search lamp, illuminating her path through fallen trunks and snowdrifts. Her blue eyes darted back and forth, looking for any signs of movement, her light slicing through the pines, bathing them in a ghostly glow. But there was nothing, not even a hint of where Ren may have gone.

Hux cursed under her breath as the ground shuddered again. Her life was not going to end here, not in such an idiotic way. If that fool wasn't dead already, she would be sorely tempted to finish the job when she found him, and not even his stupid Force would save him.

She paused, blinking away the falling snow. The Force. She'd never listened to much of Ren's rantings about the Dark Side, though she knew firsthand how powerful it made him. Her paradise, her dominion lay in blueprints, and facts, and the hard, unyielding hull of the _Finalizer_. These were things that could be understood, measured. Ren's domain was full of uncertainty and shadow, and Hux had never felt desire to venture there.

But perhaps it could help her now.

She forced herself to stop, her boots sinking into the snow, her breath a thick fog before her. Her clothes felt hot, her heart pounding as she felt the deep vibrations of the dying planet under her feet. Sweat beaded on her forehead and evaporated in the cold.

Breathing hard, Hux closed her eyes and tried to swallow her fear, to remove every thought from her mind except the one she wanted. Her fists were clenched, leather gloves creaking with effort. The air around her stilled, the silence now a roar in her ears.

Through the darkness, her mind threw out a wordless scream.

 _REN!_

A beat, and then... nothing, except the hammering of her heart.

Her jaw squeezed shut, so hard that it hurt. It wasn't working. Her thoughts were too jumbled. She was scared, too scared of the death she knew was around the corner. She would never find him, and if she didn't perish here, Snoke would kill her.

Hux collapsed to her knees, doubling over, the cold seeping through her bones, urging her to lie down and just die quietly. Her blaster felt heavy at her side. She could get it over with now, pull the trigger and make it easy on herself.

"No," she whispered through her clamped teeth. "Not today."

Straightening up but still kneeling, she opened her eyes and looked up into the canopy. Far above, X-wings and TIE fighters were engaged in battle, dodging and weaving like mayflies in summer. The snow continued to fall softly on her face, tickling her eyelashes.

She let out a slow, deep breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. The lamp beside her flickered and died, but Hux paid it no mind. The TIEs roared above her, beautiful in their terrible war, the chaotic agents of order. Her Order. And it would go on, even without her. For some reason, the thought brought her comfort.

She smiled, and thought, _Is this how we die, Kylo Ren? I expected better._

In the dark, the sky began to glow. Something told Hux it wasn't just an explosion, and before she knew it, she was on her feet and running, stumbling in the snow, doggedly scaling the tallest hill in the vicinity. It didn't put her much above ground, but it was enough.

Panting and coughing in the cold, she looked out over the forest and immediately saw it. A beacon hovered not far from her, fifteen feet above the tallest of the trees. Even from this distance, Hux knew what it was.

Ren's lightsaber. Its crimson blade was ignited, trembling like a torch in the orange, angry sky.

Exhilaration flooded her body as she spoke into her comlink. "I'm on the move. All units, return to the ship and prepare for immediate aerial extraction at my location."

The staticky reply came when she was already halfway down the hill. "Copy that, General. On our way."

She kept the saber in sight as she ran, glimpsing it through the trees occasionally. When she was close, Hux paused behind a fallen log and drew her blaster. If Ren was injured, the girl could still be nearby, and she didn't need to run headfirst into enemy fire.

But nothing greeted her as she peered out cautiously into the gloom. She straightened, watching as just ahead of her, the saber suddenly vanished. Ren must have become too weak to keep it afloat, which meant serious danger.

Hux ran freely now. She heard him before she saw him, muffled groans and curses spilling from a pile of dark clothes at the edge of a chasm where the ground had split. His arms and legs jerked like a beetle trying to right itself, and failing. His face sported a gruesome gash, and a wide dark spot in the snow was spreading where he'd fallen. Upon seeing her, he moaned, eyes flashing under black curls sodden in snow. One gloved hand was clawing at the ground to reach the lightsaber, which was now in several pieces on the ground.

"You... give me..."

Hux bent over the weapon, realizing it had been shattered during the fight. Ren must have used the Force to reconstruct it so he could make the signal, draining the rest of his strength in the process. Now, it looked to be beyond repair, the cracked crystal sizzling a hole in the snow. She pocketed the pieces carefully, and stared at him. "It's broken. I'm keeping it until you come to your senses."

Ren apparently had more sense than she'd thought, because his arm lashed out, and Hux was hurled backwards by an invisible wall, hitting a tree and falling into a snowbank. The pressure receded almost immediately, however, and she sat up, glaring at him through a face-full of snow.

"You damn imbecile, I'm trying to help you!"

"Don't need... help from... you," he growled, crawling on his elbows in an attempt to stand. He got about two feet before collapsing, and Hux winced as she heard him screaming into the ground, a howl of rage and frustration mingling with pain. However much he'd put into the fight, he had lost, really and truly. She needed to tread carefully with him while he was hurt and clearly dangerous. Ignoring the soreness from her own impact, Hux stood up and approached him, trading her usual authoritative tone for a milder one.

"Ren," she said gently, stopping just out of arm's reach. "You're bleeding. Let me help you."

"I didn't lose, I didn't," he said suddenly but very clearly, his voice still muffled by the ground. "She would not have beaten me if the Wookiee hadn't...shot..." He coughed, spraying flecks of blood on the white snow.

"It doesn't matter now," she tried again. Above them, her ship had finally approached, its search lights flooding the area. "We need to get off this planet."

He grimaced. "Snoke needs to know... was not...not fair fight."

Hux's patience, already strained, reached its end. "I don't give a damn if it was fair," she snapped, stomping to his side and kneeling beside him, pulling out a syringe. Without hesitation, she shoved the needle into his thigh, the automatic depressor going off before he could retaliate.

"I'm not dying on this rock because you feel like explaining yourself," she said as the anger in his eyes faded to a glassy stare. "And by the way, Snoke knows. He told me to get you."

The tranquilizer took hold instantly, and Ren's body slackened in her arms. Several troopers descended from the hovering shuttle with a harness, and Hux stood aside as they strapped him into it. One soldier motioned to her.

"Hurry, General! The ground is very unstable!"

"No kidding," she muttered, climbing up a drop-ladder ahead of the troopers, the harness following close behind. She was winded by the time she reached the top; Ren's Force shove had battered her quite thoroughly. Once Ren was secured, Hux discarded her cloak and turned to the captain.

"Are there any medics on board?"

He paused before speaking, as if in thought. "None in official capacity, but we all have some training."

"Get him on a bed and bring the medical bag," she ordered the troopers, who hauled Ren to the back of the ship. She turned back to the captain, rolling up her sleeves. "He is bleeding to death. Communicate with the trauma bay on the _Finalizer_ , I want a team standing by for immediate bacta immersion and possible surgical intervention. Move!"

The captain, clearly shocked by the urgency in her tone, came to his senses. "Yes, General."

"And someone get me a godsdamned warming blanket!" she yelled, following the troopers to the makeshift sick bay.

* * *

In the cold artificial lights, Ren's blood looked redder.

Hux tore through the meager contents of the medical bag, tossing unwanted supplies to the floor. Normally, each unit had a medic, but she'd gathered as many people as she could in her hasty evacuation, ignoring the regular protocol. Thus, she was reasonably certain she was the most competent to administer first aid, having taken official lessons at the Academy. Still, her knowledge was rudimentary at best, and she knew Ren would die if they didn't reach the _Finalizer_ in time.

The ship shook violently as it tore through the dying planet's atmosphere, the pilot going as fast as possible while still avoiding debris from the massive explosions as Starkiller tore itself apart. The room Hux was in had no viewports, and only adrenaline kept her from vomiting in the turbulence.

Ren was pale and breathing hard, still semi-paralyzed from the tranquilizer she'd administered. Unceremoniously, Hux tore off as much of his clothes as she could manage, for they were wet from snow and leeching heat from his body. The rest she removed with a knife, taking note of the huge, black wound in his side where he'd been struck. Dousing a cloth in antiseptic, she shoved it into the oozing gap, as deep as she managed. Ren's lips twitched, as if he'd wanted to scream and couldn't.

"It's necessary," she said, tearing a wide piece of tape and securing the bandage tightly in place. "Pressure dressing. Just stay awake. I'm going to give you some fluids."

Ren remained still, though his eyes were fixed on her face, the brown pooling into black with some emotion she couldn't recognize. Hux covered him with the warming blanket, her palms sweating as she reached into the bag and removed an IV needle, the biggest she could find. She did not know how to properly put it into a blood vessel without rupturing it (not that the ship's tremors would allow for it anyway); but in her classes at the Academy, the instructor had demonstrated another technique.

She held the needle aloft, and pressed her fingers to Ren's neck. The pulse there was thready and fast. She remembered something about shock, how the heart rate sped up as the body tried to keep death away. Until it couldn't.

 _If he dies, Snoke will not spare you,_ said a voice in her head. Hux wasn't sure of that; she'd have liked to think that she had proven her usefulness to the Order separately from Ren. Still, she would not take any chances.

She looked down at him. Under the blanket, he had stopped shivering, but it was not a good sign.

"Sorry about this," she murmured, lifting the blanket off his body and burying the needle to the hilt in the bone of his lower leg.

Ren's back all but rose off the cot, his muscles straining against the receding tranquilizer. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, and Hux felt a pressure that threatened to crack her skull in two. She clutched her head, silently screaming at him to stop, that she was trying to help.

Their eyes locked, and the pain receded. Ren fell back onto the cot, and Hux recovered enough to shakily attach a fluid bag to the needle's port. Opening the stopper, she watched the fluid enter his leg, hopefully dissipating into his veins as the Academy instructor had described.

She sat at his bedside for the rest of the trip, getting regular progress reports from the pilot. Gradually, his pulse decreased to normal, and his skin turned from white to pink. By the time they reached the _Finalizer_ , he was almost awake. He said nothing, though, and Hux didn't mind. He was alive. That's all that mattered.

As the trauma team wheeled him off the ship and into the bacta tank, Hux lingered by the ramp, the front of her uniform still covered in blood. She crossed her arms to keep them from shaking. Later on, she thought, she would sit down and determine why she spent so much effort on saving him.

 _Obviously,_ she decided as she watched them go, _it's because Snoke wanted it._

Obviously.

* * *

Six days later, Hux's comlink beeped urgently.

She looked up from the data readouts scattered across her desk. She'd been staring at them for the last hour, almost unseeing in her concentration, her pen twirling over and over between her fingers in habit. She'd been awake for more than thirty hours, and would be for at least another six.

The _Finalizer_ limped through the stars, painfully slowly, the culprit a malfunctioning auxiliary hyperdrive that kept sucking power from the main one. Teams were working around the clock to restore what passed for normalcy on the flagship. Morale was low; many had been lost on Starkiller, and Hux had to broadcast several impassioned speeches to keep the focus on crushing the Resistance and the recent victory against Hosnian Prime. Her heart, however, was a lead weight in her chest. The destruction of the base was a huge blow, the loss of years of work. Order in the galaxy had been at her fingertips, and now was again just a remote dream.

She sighed. Reports from the rest of the fleet flooded her desk. She had given the order to regroup the core Destroyers at the edge of the Outer Rim, so she could meet with Snoke and the Lieutenant Generals to plan their next move. Everyone was on their way, and hopefully, Snoke had something in mind.

The comlink beeped again. With an irritated huff, Hux pressed the button.

"Yes?"

The voice on the other end was her assistant, Selvan. He sounded apologetic. "Captain Phasma is outside your quarters, General. I told her you were busy, but she requests an urgent audience."

"Send her in. And get me the latest progress report from Engineering on the hyperdrive. I'm tired of their inane excuses."

"Yes, General."

Severing the connection, Hux stood up, her back protesting painfully from being bent over the desk. In the shower the previous night, she'd noticed her bruises turning green. Ren really had done a number on her in the forest. But it was nothing compared to what had been done to him.

When Phasma entered, Hux was facing away from the door, hands clasped behind her back, watching the stars pass by through the floor-to-ceiling viewport on the far side of the room. She heard the heavy footsteps of the captain reach the middle of the office and pause, followed by a respectful silence.

She did not turn her head. "Well?"

Phasma's voice was clipped. "There is an issue in the sick bay with Commander Ren."

Hux's heart sped up, but she kept her voice level. "Define 'issue.'"

"He is awake and refusing all intervention." Phasma spoke carefully. "And... he broke the bacta tank. And destroyed several droids. And a control panel."

Hux sighed. At least he wasn't dead. "Any personnel injured?"

"Not yet, ma'am. But I would prefer if it doesn't come to that."

"Indeed." Hux turned, staring into the blank helmet of the captain. Her chrome armor gleamed in the overhead lights, impeccably polished as usual. "And what do you expect me to do, Captain? Because clearly, I don't have enough work already."

"I would like you to accompany me to the sick bay," Phasma said, unfazed by the verbal barb. "With all due respect, ma'am, he may actually listen to you, and I won't have to shoot him to keep him from killing my men."

Hux turned back to the window, feeling a headache coming on. She rubbed her temples; the last thing she needed was to babysit an unhinged Force user. But it couldn't be helped. She sighed again. _Snoke had better have a medal ready for me if I get Ren back in one piece._

"I will be there shortly," she finally replied, staring out at the glimmering stars. "Walk ahead of me and tell the troopers to avoid any direct confrontation."

"Yes, General."

Phasma had started to leave when Hux spoke again.

"Captain."

The footsteps paused. Hux kept her voice devoid of any emotion, a move she'd learned from her father. She'd never been able to master her gaze, for her emotions blazed through it unchecked. However, if she were facing away from her target, it worked quite well, and was a skill that unnerved any subordinate she'd tried it on.

In the reflection from the window, Hux kept her eyes on Phasma's retreating back as she spoke. "During the aerial attack by the Resistance on the oscillator, the shields surrounding it were initially functional. At some point, they were deactivated from within the base, despite regular and heavy patrols. Keeping that oscillator protected was your purview, was it not?"

Phasma stood rigidly, a tell in itself. Hux knew the captain was fiercely loyal to the Order, and her body language spoke of discomfort. "Yes," she replied, her voice clear through the helmet. "It was, General."

Hux continued in an impassive tone. "So is it fair to say that if the shields had not been deactivated, the intruders would not have been able to destroy the oscillator despite having infiltrated the base, and therefore, the destruction of Starkiller would have been prevented?"

Phasma's huge frame stiffened even more, if possible. "That is correct, General. The responsibility for the failure falls on my unit, and therefore me. I am ready to accept any consequence you feel is warranted."

"I see," Hux said. "You know, Captain, it's a shame the surveillance data from the base has been lost. Surely the cameras would have picked up whoever deactivated the shields. The individual must have had a high security clearance."

"Yes. Their cooperation was probably secured by force," said Phasma, and Hux turned to face her, allowing the full force of her icy gaze to spear the captain's helmet.

"Probably," she echoed, voice still calm and belying her blazing eyes. "But such details don't interest me. I would expect that any officer of the First Order would rather die a noble death than jeopardize an entire base, let alone _an entire planet._ Wouldn't _you_ die for our cause, Captain?"

Silence descended, with only the hum of the air filtration system between them. Finally, Phasma dropped to one knee, her armor clanging on the durasteel floor. She reached up and removed her helmet, meeting Hux's gaze. She was paler than usual, with spots of pink high in her cheeks. Beneath her short blonde hair, her eyes were fervent with passion and not a trace of fear.

"Serving the First Order is my sole purpose, General. My life belongs to you... as does my death."

Hux narrowed her eyes. It was no confession, but she was reasonably sure Phasma knew more about the deactivation of the shields than she let on. Still, the woman's loyalty was undeniable; and if she was not a traitor, killing her would be useless. Nevertheless, Hux let her unblinking gaze linger on Phasma well past the point of comfort.

"See that you don't forget it, Captain," she finally said, turning back to the window. "We all have a role to play, in something far greater than ourselves. You're dismissed."

When the heavy footsteps receded and the door slid shut, Hux relaxed her posture and leaned her forehead against the cool transparisteel. Her headache, she knew, would only get worse today.

* * *

Captain Phasma's day was deteriorating at an alarming rate. She looked down at the river of bacta at her feet, then at the destroyed medical droid slumped in the far corner, and then at the medics and nurses, who were keeping a very prudent distance from her current object of interest.

"Commander," she tried again, taking a step forward. "Your wound has opened. I would advise-"

"You have the authority to advise me?" Kylo Ren seethed, ripping out the last of the IVs that the nurses had tried to place all morning. Around him, large pieces of debris floated in the air, ready to be hurled at the slightest provocation. "No? Then be silent before I lose the rest of my patience."

The few people still brave enough to be in the room (including other patients, who couldn't leave of their own volition) backpedaled. Phasma stood her ground, calculating how many shots she would be able to make before he killed her.

"Sir-"

The big doors slid open, and in walked General Hux. Tall and poised as ever, she nonetheless looked to Phasma a bit worse for wear in this bright light, with lines in her face and more wrinkles in her uniform than usual, as if she'd been in it for a long time. Phasma let her pass, and Hux paused just inside the room, taking in the carnage. A moment later, she crossed her arms, and slowly locked eyes with the enraged Knight of Ren.

"I see you're awake. Why are you so intent on destroying my ship?"

He scowled, dark curls wild around his pale face, his gray medical gown hanging loosely around his bruised body. The raw scar on his cheek had only partially healed, and was still quite ghastly. "This facility is no longer of use to me, and I will not be kept here against my will."

"Indeed," Hux replied coolly, gesturing to the blood now freely dripping out of his bandage and onto the floor. "I see you've recovered quite well."

"I'm leaving," he said, and the airborne debris trembled in warning. "Do not try to stop me."

In Phasma's peripheral vision, the nurses were putting as much distance between themselves and the pair as possible. Hux, however, stepped forward, closer to Ren, and something in her body language made Phasma follow.

"Oh, I'm not going to _try_ ," she answered, pulling her modified blaster from her side, a wicked-looking thing that gleamed in the broken shards of the bacta tank. "If you continue to threaten my personnel, I will shoot you."

He sneered, "You wouldn't dare-"

Hux raised the blaster and fired. People screamed, and Phasma stared in shock as Ren raised a hand, barely deflecting the bolt to the side. The ricochet hit a computer panel, sparks flying as Hux walked forward, calmly squeezing the trigger again and again, with Ren blocking each time. She gave him no time to do anything but parry, shooting continuously and driving him back toward a corner. Around them, the debris came crashing to the floor, and Phasma realized that Ren's power was limited by his injuries, letting him focus on only one thing at a time. She palmed her own weapon as Hux finally got a shot in, striking Ren's shoulder. He fell to his knees with a curse, his back hitting the wall.

The General stopped a few feet away, blaster still trained on him as he glared daggers at her. "That was set to stun," she said. "I imagine it's still quite painful. The Supreme Leader ordered me to bring you back alive, but he never specified what condition you needed to be in when you showed up."

Phasma was impressed despite herself. Ren was fearless in battle; she'd seen him walk into blaster fire without the slightest pause. And yet, he looked nervous when Hux's voice, short and sharp, stabbed through the room. Phasma had to agree with him when she saw the look on the General's face.

"And if my saving your life on Starkiller isn't enough for you, and Leader Snoke's plan isn't enough for you, then remember that the _Finalizer_ is under my command. And as such, during times of martial law, I have the authority to blast you into six different fucking knights of Ren if you give me a reason. So go ahead. Try _me_ , Commander."

Silence followed, the air thick, Hux's slim body shaking in anger. All, that is, except the arm that held the blaster aloft and firmly fixed on Ren. The _drip, drip_ of the remaining bacta punctuated the hissing of the destroyed control panels. Phasma held her breath. No matter what happened, she was a First Order soldier and would side with Hux; but if Ren truly retaliated with the Force, this would get ugly very fast.

But after a few seconds, Kylo Ren chuckled, his deep voice rumbling, dark eyes glittering with amusement and exhaustion. "You're angry, General. I didn't think you had it in you."

Hux's lips were pinched in a tight line. "I've had a rough day."

Ren raised an eyebrow, and lifted his hands up in mock surrender. Hux lowered the blaster, and Phasma breathed again as the tension in the room lifted. Hux turned to a terrified but hopeful-looking nurse.

"Stop the bleeding, and administer any medications you need. He will not hinder you," she looked pointedly at Ren, "in any way. After he is stable, he may be transferred to his quarters to continue recuperation. And destroy his own damn furniture."

The nurse eyed Ren, who still sat on the floor, looking like a feral animal. "Yes... ma'am."

Hux nodded. "Very good. Captain, accompany me to Engineering. We need to see about that hyperdrive."

After the incident in the General's quarters, Phasma wanted very much to be as far away from her as possible. Still, she obeyed as Hux made her way to the door, navigating the mess of broken equipment. Ren's voice followed them.

"General."

Hux did not turn around, but Phasma did. Ren's smile, she saw, had widened, and had a disturbing gleam in it.

"Your rage," he said, "is delicious."

If she didn't know any better, Phasma would have said Hux looked pale when she left the room.

* * *

Several nights later, Hux awoke with a start to the sound of her shower running.

She lay in the darkness, heart pounding. Through the small hallway leading to the fresher, she could see that the light underneath the door was on.

 _It could be a technical malfunction,_ she thought. But for both the water and the light to be on was unusual. Of course, if she had an intruder, why would they be taking a shower?

Feeling a bit ridiculous, she quietly rose from the bed and slipped into pants and a loose shirt. A long-standing habit ensured her blaster was always in close reach, and she retrieved it from the bedside table. Keeping the lights off, she crept toward the hallway, her form a dark spot in the lights of stars in the viewport. The sound of running water masked any movement inside the fresher, and she wondered if she was daft, sneaking around her own quarters, on her extremely secure flagship, in pajamas. She could summon assistance, but she'd look pretty stupid if she called a strike team to attack a shower.

She hesitated outside the door, trying to calm her nerves. If it were an intruder, they had bypassed strong security systems to get in, and were quiet enough to keep her from waking.

 _Yet they didn't incapacitate me when they had the chance._

Hux raised her blaster. It was a decision they'd regret, in the last few seconds of their life.

She hit the button on the door, and was immediately engulfed in a cloud of steam and heat. She pointed her weapon across the room, where a figure was outlined in the fog of the shower stall. She almost squeezed the trigger, but a sight in her peripheral vision made her stop. A pile of clothes was neatly folded on the sink, and she knew exactly whom they belonged to.

She fought to keep control of her voice, utterly failing. The words came out in a strangled croak.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

From behind the opaque transparisteel, the figure shifted. It looked like a shrug. "My shower is broken."

Hux shook her head, not believing her eyes or ears. _Kylo Ren. In my fucking fresher._

"For the love of...There are communal showers!"

"Not risking the cameras. Or the eyes of stormtroopers," he replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and she was an idiot for suggesting it.

"SICK BAY," Hux growled. "Or literally any other officer's quarters."

More splashing. "They don't know my face, and I'd like to keep it that way."

She had an extremely strong urge to shoot him. "I don't know what your game is, but you have three seconds to get out of there. One-"

On cue, the door began to open. "Very well."

Hux suddenly saw an obvious problem with her demand, and yelled, "Hold it!"

The door stopped.

"I'll turn around," she said, still not entirely understanding how she got into this situation, or if she was in the middle of a very strange dream. "Make yourself decent."

His voice remained nonplussed. "I'd like to finish my shower, if it's all the same to you."

Hux's mouth opened in shock, and it took a few seconds to get the words out. "It's NOT all the same to me, you uncouth-"

"How did you do it, General?"

Her anger ground to a halt at his sudden change in tone. "What?"

A few moments passed in silence, and then Ren spoke. His voice was now serious, thoughtful. "On Starkiller Base, you called me through the Force. I heard your voice, and levitated my saber. Yet you possess no knowledge of what you did. I doubt you could do it again, even if you wanted. So... how _did_ you call me?"

Hux's mind reeled, and she lowered her blaster. He had heard her that night. The beacon was a response to her search for him.

"Your interrogation tactics," she finally said, recovering. "I know you can hear people's thoughts. I just had to make sure mine were the loudest."

"Hmm," Ren said, and the deep thrum of his voice bypassed her ears and vibrated through her body. "Do you know how difficult that is, in a cacophony of voices on a dying planet?"

Hux didn't like where this was going; not seeing his expression wasn't helping. "I was close to you," she snapped. "Two hundred yards at most."

"Not that close," he replied smoothly. "The Jedi and the Sith can reach across planets, galaxies, even across the veil of death, to speak to one another. But those ignorant of the Force... cannot, even when looking at a person directly."

"I'm no different from the prisoners you interrogate," she argued. "You could hear anyone you want."

"True. But only if I'm trying to listen. That night, I wasn't searching for you. Yet I heard you nonetheless."

Hux said nothing. This visit of his was looking more and more calculated by the minute. But what was the purpose?

"I've been thinking," he continued from behind the stall. "Do you know what the other prerequisite is, for a non-Force user to be able to achieve this?"

She did not respond, but she knew it wasn't going to be good.

"A connection," he said. "A strong one, physical... or emotional."

Her thoughts clicked into place. _Ah. So that's it._

"We're not friends, Ren," she replied, injecting as much venom into her voice as possible. This wasn't difficult, given that he'd been a thorn in her side since the attack on Starkiller. "The Supreme Leader gave me an order. I found you because of that, and I saved you because of that. Nothing more."

His response to this fierce proclamation was a chuckle. "In the shuttle that night, you were afraid for me. Do you deny it?"

Hux suspected he was putting images in her head. She suddenly smelled the acrid smoke of his charred wound, saw the glare of the white lights, felt the bone-chilling fear as his life had slipped out of her reach. Were they her images, or his?

She fought the onslaught, scowling at his blurred figure in the steam. "Because if you died, so would I! Why does it matter?"

Ren went on as if he hadn't heard her. "You were sorry to cause me pain. You _apologized_."

Hux grimaced, remembering the needle she'd stuck into his leg. _Sorry about this,_ she'd said. The bastard had heard everything.

His tone held a trace of mockery and amusement. "Weakness doesn't look good on you, General."

She narrowed her eyes. Emmeline Hux was many things, but 'weak' was an insult she wouldn't tolerate, Force-wielding lunatic or not.

"If you think," she ground out, "for a second, that I have any feelings for you other than significant distaste, you are out of your mind."

She heard a smile in his voice, though she could not see it. "Perhaps distaste is enough to achieve a Force connection. Perhaps not."

The shower door opened, and Hux just managed to avert her eyes as he stepped out. A fresh wave of heat assaulted her senses, and she was suddenly acutely aware of her thin clothing, the sweat on her neck, and the intense gaze she could not see but _feel_ , burning into her skin. He was searching her for something, digging deeply, and she shivered despite the warmth in the room.

Not three feet away from her, his voice floated into her head. "Yet you hide your face. What would I see if I looked inside your head now?"

Hux wasn't sure. Her mind was blank, but she remembered a dream she'd had after the incident in the sick bay. It had been short, but extremely clear in its intention. Large, warm hands. Eyes, black with passion. Fury, blood, and fire. When she awakened, she'd vomited, and then scrubbed herself in the shower until her skin was raw.

"Are you afraid, Emmeline?" he asked softly. "Are you... flustered?"

She saw her reflection in the mirror, curls mussed from sleep, eyes dilated. She took several breaths, in and out. Then, she turned and looked straight at him, letting her eyes rake him slowly, top to bottom.

His side had mostly healed. His hair was longer than she remembered, curling past his cheeks. Droplets ran in little rivulets from the dark strands, onto his shoulders and down his broad, muscular chest, a canvas of scorch marks and scars. Her eyes followed the water to his flat stomach, down the thin line of hair leading down to the center of his masculine power. He was large, she noted, even unaroused, and very well matched to his tall frame. How different he looked when she'd cut off his clothes as he lay dying that night...and now, just as bare, standing easily in her bathroom, water dripping down his pale skin, a predator in human form.

Hux let her gaze linger on him for several long, lazy seconds. Then, she dragged it up to his burning, black eyes, and smirked.

"Don't kid yourself, Ren," she said. "It takes much more than you to fluster me."

Taking a fresh towel from the wall panel, she threw it at his surprised face, turned on her heel, and marched back to bed.

"Lock the door on your way out."

By the time Kylo Ren had recovered enough to exit the fresher, Hux was already deeply asleep. And, as expected, she slept dreamlessly that night, and every night for weeks after that.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you for reviewing! Hopefully you guys love Emmeline as much as I love writing her and Ren. There is no "romance" in the true sense; I truly believe the Hux/Ren relationship is one of grudging respect and envy, but there is also a moderate amount of attraction, as these things tend to go when opposite sexes work together. So we will see where it takes me, lol. This whole tale grew out of the shower scene, which I thought of in...you guessed it, the shower. Anyway, enjoy and review if you like it!


	4. Tale Three: Parallels (Part I)

**Tales From the Finalizer**

 **By: Lena (Airelle Vilka)**

* * *

 **TALE THREE: Parallels**

 _In which a typical day on the Finalizer becomes anything but._

 **Part I of II**

* * *

 _0500 hours. Quarters of General Emmeline Hux._

Hux eyed her uniform critically, turning it sideways on its hanger. She had de-wrinkled it the night before, eschewing the assistance of droids for this particular task. They never got it right, anyway.

Suitable for the day.

Her chronometer beeped three times, and she looked longingly at a little machine on her shelf. Normally, it would already be on, happily brewing her morning beverage; but today, she had an early meeting, and needed to get her run in before that.

She reached down, stretching as she checked the laces on her shoes, willing her mind to shut out any thoughts, and failing. Already, her brain was sorting through her schedule, rearranging a particularly annoying lieutenant to later in the day. He had issues with the condition of the training rooms, and Hux had received extremely detailed but mind-numbing notes on the topic from him for the last three weeks. She recalled that he had a particularly nasal voice, and wondered if she could reschedule him.

"Selvan," she spoke into her comlink, knowing her assistant was still in bed. Hux didn't consider herself malicious, but she did get a perverse sort of pleasure from being awake and working before anyone else. Showing up on the bridge before shift change unnerved the techs and kept them on their toes, she'd found.

After a moment, the voice of a man who was trying to wake up very quickly in a short time came through. "Good morning, General."

"Is it?" she grimaced, walking to her door and swinging her arms and legs in final preparation for her run. "If you put off the meeting with Andwel, it will be. I can't deal with him and Ren on the same day."

Selvan's voice was even, but she'd known him long enough to sense amusement. "I'll tell him you're unavailable today. Anything else?"

"Actually," Hux said, "check the progress on the pilot from Jakku."

There was a pause. "They've been working on him all night, General. I'm sure they're close to retrieving the necessary information."

"Make sure they don't kill him," she warned, exiting her quarters and heading toward the elevator. "Periods of rest between interrogations. It wears the subject down, gives him time to consider the futility of his situation."

"Understood, General."

Silencing the comlink, Hux took a deep breath, swallowing to clear her ears as they adjusted to the rapid descent of the elevator. This pilot was a minor distraction and meant little to the advance of the First Order's plans, but he was important to Kylo Ren, and so she needed to worry about him.

She sighed. Not even awake for an hour, and already the infuriating man was in her thoughts. It didn't help that the viewport from her quarters faced the bridge, and she often saw him there at night, pacing like a caged animal. Sometimes, he'd stop and look directly out, and she swore he could see her, even from that distance and through one-way transparisteel.

The lamps on every level alternated with shadow as she descended further, slicing her face in darkness and light at dizzying speed. She leaned against the transparent wall, watching the ship loom above her, and felt a surge of pride at being part of this massive beast, the head and heart of power and order. She had known, from the moment she set foot on the _Finalizer_ , that she was home. And after ten years, she was intimately familiar with every instrument, every room, every noise; the vessel's lifeblood pumped through her, and she was as much a part of it as the elevator she rode.

Finally, she reached one of the bottom floors that housed the training areas. The vast space was separated into private rooms for officers and communal ones for soldiers, as well as the large facilities for official drills and combat training. One of these housed a massive pool, and above it a circular catwalk that was her destination.

"General," a cadre of troopers saluted as one, recognizing her immediately despite her outfit. Hux nodded and passed them, her mind in single focus toward her morning routine. Her unpredictable hours required endurance of mind and body, and she'd long ago learned that she was no Phasma, meant for bulk and strength. Instead, running gave her clarity of thought along with a dogged tenacity that was her trademark in all things.

Reaching the catwalk in a light jog, she steeled herself and began in earnest, trying to shut out thoughts of Ren and the pilot from her mind.

* * *

 _0500 hours. Quarters of Commander-Inquisitor Kylo Ren._

He was having nightmares again.

His eyes opened in the darkness, staring at the industrial ceiling. The room was palpably cold, though whether from a glitch in the temperature controls or from his own power, Ren did not know.

Groaning, he swung his legs over the bed, hands involuntarily raking his thick hair, head cradled in his palms. The proximity to his goal must have contributed to the dreams. The map to Luke Skywalker was nearby, so close. Soon, he would finally complete his grandfather's mission, and would wipe the last of the Jedi from the galaxy.

 _I'm coming for you, Uncle,_ he thought savagely, rising and reaching for his clothes. With every layer of the dark material, he was enveloped further, the power seeping into him, imbuing him with comforting warmth. By the time the hood rose over his mask, the man was gone and only the Knight remained. Just as it should be.

His mind reached out to his master, but the connection was empty. Snoke did not wish to be disturbed, clearly.

Ren checked the chronometer on the wall. They would have been questioning the Resistance pilot for the last four hours. He made the assumption they hadn't gotten the information they wanted; he'd given strict orders to be told immediately once they had something.

He scowled. He'd go up there himself, and tear through the impudent man's mind like a wampa through a Tauntaun's belly. Oh, he would regret giving Ren lip on Jakku the previous night. Ren smirked as he imagined the insolence wiped from the prisoner's face when his memories were thoroughly violated.

But first, meditation. For the interrogation to be effective, he needed to clear his head of the dreams. His mother had once again made a prominent appearance, begging him to return home. She had been showing up more recently, and he wondered if she was thinking about him.

 _I don't care_ , he told himself, stomping out the door toward the elevator. _She means nothing to me. That life was over long ago._

Patrolling soldiers careened out of his way, sensing his irritation and not wanting to bear the brunt of his fury. All too well; he was certain Hux would not appreciate the killing of stormtroopers this early in the morning.

He stalked impatiently in front of the elevator, hitting the button several times. Not even awake an hour, and already the damn woman was on his mind. She was probably in a meeting, with her perfect uniform and hair, looking down her nose at her underlings. He could picture the look of disgust on her expressive face as she was faced with yet more incompetence, and his mood brightened at the thought of her exasperation.

Reaching his destination, he positioned himself cross-legged in the shadows under the catwalk, ignoring the few soldiers who had noticed him and quickly retreated. The facility was always noisy, exactly what he needed to meditate. Snoke had taught him that chaos, not silence, provided the best counterpoint to Farseeing, and he allowed the shouts of the instructors and the splashing of pool water to penetrate his mind, focusing on each sound before consciously carving a path past it, reaching out past the _Finalizer_ and into the darkness of space. As he left his body and the ship behind, Ren noted that the dreams still lingered, and moved further, past Jakku and into the depth of the Outer Rim. Only there did he find himself alone, without sound or breath, completely free as his master had instructed.

Then, entrenched deep within the web of the Force, he grasped the delicate strands and began to search.

* * *

 _0530 hours. Stormtrooper training facility, Level 41B._

FN-2187 coughed up water, kicking his legs to keep himself afloat. This was his fourth pass through the pool, and his arms were exhausted. His mind, however, remained brutally aware of the events in the village on Jakku. He'd gone to reconditioning, but it had not helped. He could still smell the sharp tang of blood, see the smoke, hear the screams. He'd been raised to do this. But he knew, after last night, that he couldn't.

Treading water, he moved himself off to the side to stay away from his comrades as they raced down the partitioned tracks in the pool. That Resistance fighter they'd captured. What was his name?

He couldn't remember. It didn't matter, as the man was probably dead now. Certainly was, if Kylo Ren had gotten to him.

A shiver passed through his body as he remembered the dark figure, the scarred mask glinting in the flames. How easily Ren had stopped the Resistance fighter's blaster bolt. The terrifying, jagged lightsaber arcing through the air and cutting down the old man who'd dared to challenge him. The ease with which he'd ordered the troopers to kill the villagers for their resistance.

The moment he had _looked_ at him. Despite the helmets, FN-2187 knew Ren had been staring straight into his soul. Why he hadn't killed him on the spot was a miracle; one that would surely not be repeated.

His stomach turned, nausea threatening again to overcome him as it had done on Jakku. He should not be even thinking about this. He should go to reconditioning again, where his world would once again be understandable, normal.

And yet, against his better judgment, he continued to think, chewing his lip in contemplation, wondering again about the prisoner. He could find out if they'd killed him. It would be easy enough; he had access to the detention center. And then...

 _And then what?_

His fingertips began to tingle as a very traitorous thought took hold. The prisoner had been about to leave Jakku in a ship when it was incapacitated. Which meant he could fly.

 _He could fly._

So if he was alive, and somehow escaped...

FN-2187's heart leaped, and he looked around, almost afraid that someone had heard his thoughts. He'd heard rumors about Kylo Ren's abilities, and expected him to come roaring from above, taking his head off in one clean strike. But nothing happened, and he looked up at the catwalk above the pool, his mind already forming a plan, an insane plan that could just work, and get him out of here forever.

It was then that he saw her.

General Hux had paused just above him, leaning on the railing to catch her breath. She wore gray leggings under a simple tunic that bore no rank, but even from here, FN-2187 knew who she was. He had seen her often enough on the holovids. Even winded and sweating, she managed to exude poise as she surveyed the vast expanse of the room. This facility was one of the biggest on the ship, and he supposed she needed the space to run. Still, he didn't expect her presence here, among those who were clearly beneath her notice.

Abruptly, she looked down at the pool, and met his eyes. The difference in height and his unclothed state made his face burn, and he lowered himself into the water; but despite his discomfort, he could not look away.

Set in her angular, feminine face, framed by red hair, her eyes were unlike anything he had ever seen. They were daggers, their intensity burning the air away, spearing him in place like a prey animal. Her gaze unraveled his mind, as if searching for anything other than what she expected to see, tearing out everything that didn't suit her goals. Suddenly, he wanted to confess everything to her, every disloyal thought, to throw himself on the floor and beg for mercy.

And just like that, FN-2187 understood how someone barely in her thirties, a pale wraith of a woman whom he could crush with one punch, held an iron grip over the First Order. She required no insignia on her clothes, no blaster at her side. All she needed was the single-minded determination in those eyes, the merciless drive that cut down everything in her path, and men would follow her to their death.

Then, just as suddenly, she looked away, and his heart began to beat again. He swam to the pool's edge and gripped the cold durasteel, catching his breath and looking absently ahead. The feeling of unease had lessened now that the General's attention was elsewhere.

He realized what he had been staring at, within the shadows below the catwalk, and terror gripped him again as quickly as it had receded.

Kylo Ren sat about ten feet away from him.

FN-2187 didn't even have time to blink before the shaking began.

* * *

 _0530 hours. Outer Rim._

"You are distracted, Lord Ren."

The voice came to him as clearly as if Snoke had been standing at his side. "Master."

"You cannot hope to get the information you seek if your mind is not clear," Snoke continued, his tone low and dangerous. "What is occupying your thoughts, my student?"

Floating within the glittering web of Force energy, Kylo Ren released another strand with a sigh. He'd been attempting to grasp and follow any lead that burned brighter than the others, searching for his uncle. No one could completely erase their Force signature, not here in the vast ether; and so, Skywalker had to be here, somewhere in this tangled web.

"I have had dreams," he finally answered, cringing even in his meditative state. "About Leia Organa Solo."

"She is strong in the Force," Snoke hissed. "If she makes contact with you-"

"I will not be swayed," Ren said quickly. "But I don't believe this to be her intention. She is simply... there. As if waiting for something."

"Waiting for you to change your mind." Malicious glee from his master swirled into Ren's heart and exploded into thousands of black shards. "Waiting for you to deny your destiny. Your very core. It is pathetic."

"Yes," Ren agreed, swallowing the bile that rose involuntarily into his throat at the thought of his mother, her warm brown eyes and her sad smile. "She will not succeed. I am a Knight of Ren, and I await your guidance."

"There is something else," Snoke sneered. Ren waited, curious.

"General Hux. I've sensed your thoughts, Lord Ren. Envy, anger. Even attraction. A maelstrom of emotions. I wonder if they are clear in their intent, or if they cloud your mind."

 _What? Preposterous,_ Ren's mind scoffed, but he did not dare challenge his master.

"She is but a pawn in your plan," he replied, uncertainty prickling in his skull. The idea that Snoke had sensed something amiss in him, especially when it came to that woman, was ludicrous. "She is not important."

"Peace is a lie," said Snoke. "There is only passion."

Ren's consciousness trembled. He knew the words of the Sith by heart, of course. "Guide me, Master. Am I somehow remiss in my thoughts of the General?"

Snoke was silent for a while. "No. Passion is the core of our being. The form it takes, whether rage, ambition, or lust... it is not for us to decide. The General has it, too. That is why her goals are so well aligned with ours. Her core calls to you, Lord Ren, and in time, you will see a use for it."

"Understood, Master," Ren said, not actually entirely understanding. "I-"

The connection cut off abruptly as something inside him screamed, _Danger_.

* * *

 _0535 hours. Stormtrooper training facility, Level 41B._

FN-2187 watched in horror as one of the supports on the catwalk collapsed, taking the upper section with it. Beneath it, Kylo Ren's dark form seemed to come alive, as if out of a trance. Moving at inhuman speed, he was suddenly at the pool's edge, away from the falling metal, his gloved hand reaching out to stop himself from being crushed. Part of a railing hurtled toward him, along with a person, long arms and legs flailing.

 _Hux,_ FN-2187 thought as Kylo Ren seemed to come to the same conclusion. His hand rose, and the falling body jerked in a sudden change of direction, missing the debris by inches and sailing over their heads into the pool.

The troopers stared, but did not move, as the General's unconscious form bobbed briefly on the water, and sank.

FN-2187 finally forced his limbs to unfreeze. Something in his heart wouldn't allow him to let her die, despite the benefit it would undoubtedly bring to the galaxy. He prepared to kick off the wall and go to her when a dark shape hurtled past him, barely making a splash as it dove straight down. He only got a glimpse of black boots before the water obscured his view.

Nearby soldiers gathered by the edge, unsure what to do; clearly, no one wanted to follow Ren down. FN-2187 decided it was a good idea to make himself scarce, and climbed out just as the two shapes in the water became larger and more distinct. He had barely made it out of the pool before Ren's helmet broke the surface.

The crowd stepped back as the dark figure climbed out, easily holding the still limp General Hux in his arms. He set her down by the edge, her head lolling, red hair spreading on the durasteel in a wet halo.

"Get a medic," he snarled, voice distorted by the modulator. "Now!"

A flurry of activity followed, with people running to summon help. In a clear circle within the crowd, the last thing FN-2187 saw before he left was Kylo Ren's hand reaching over Hux's pale face, the gloved fingers touching her blue lips.

* * *

 _... ? hours._

"Emmeline."

Hux opened her eyes. Her feet were bare for some reason, and buried to the ankles in snow. Strangely, she did not feel cold.

She stood in a garden of stone. Statues rose around her, oddly familiar, their arms wreathed in white. It was snowing heavily, and she could see no horizon in the distance. Buildings loomed like giants, hidden in the white fog, only their outlines visible. Hux tried to focus on them, but the more she did, the blurrier they became.

The garden, however, was clear and crisp in her vision. A fountain rose before her, its water long frozen over. She turned around again, examining her bare arms, almost as white as the snow itself. She wore a red gown, its train staining the ground like blood, the only color in the pale landscape.

 _I know this,_ she thought. _I wore it at the Inaugural Ball, on Arkanis._

"Emmeline."

She turned her head, and faced the tall man standing by the fountain. His once-red hair had long ago turned white, matching the dress uniform he wore. Medals adorned his chest, and a polished ceremonial sword hung from his waist. His eyes were mirror images to hers, two blue pinpoints in his aged face.

"Father," she breathed, not daring to look away. The outline of his image wavered, as if he were a mirage.

Brendol Hux inclined his head. "How is my daughter?"

She paused, sheepish for the first time in years. "I... I'm not certain."

"I was inquiring about Kevyn," he said harshly, his eyes glinting with the disdain that was all too familiar. " _You_ I know quite well."

Hux sighed, looking down at the ground now, studying the folds in her dress. Of course he would ask about her sister. He was rarely interested in anyone else since their mother had died. "Kevyn is safe, Father," she replied, forcing the longing from her tone. "She knows her place in the galaxy."

The elder Hux huffed derisively. "While you continue to disappoint me."

She looked up, a spark of anger growing in her heart. "You've been dead for ten years."

He seemed unmoved by her words, and strode toward her, unimpeded by the carpet of snow that held her ankles fast. "What did I always teach you? The first rule of command?"

Hux glared at him, her mind working furiously to determine his reason for asking.

"Well?" he demanded, coming to a stop in front of her, his arms crossed. He towered over her by at least a foot, and Hux felt like a child again, being reprimanded for some minute failure.

"Do not ignore the smallest of your men," she said through gritted teeth.

"And what did you do? The exact same."

Hux blinked away the falling snow. The last thing she remembered was sweat, trying to catch her breath from her run. Then, the catwalk. Shaking, screaming. Then darkness.

 _Lieutenant Andwel,_ the thought came. _He'd tried to warn me._

She had ignored his requests for a meeting, even that morning. In his notes, the lieutenant had expressed concern about the condition of the training facilities, including the structural issues in the pool area. It had all been there, on her desk.

The snow picked up, and the outlines of buildings completely disappeared. "You've grown careless," her father said. "Distracted. What is occupying your thoughts, girl?"

Hux scowled, but did not answer. Her mind had been busy recently, avoiding conflict, and she'd been unable to find room in it for anyone except...

"I know," Brendol Hux sneered. "The Knight of Ren. You waste your thoughts on a man who is neither your husband nor your superior. Such behavior is unseemly."

Something inside her bristled at his words, and she straightened up, facing him square. "Kylo Ren is not important beyond his uses to our cause," she snapped. "The First Order is my top priority. You know that."

Her father shook his head, as if not believing. "You were always much too passionate. If you were a man, you'd understand." His tone was harsh and unyielding, just as she remembered. "This post allows no room for anything, or _anyone,_ else in your life."

A hot flush painted her cheeks. "I see," she replied viciously. "I bet Mother liked that way of thinking."

His arm lashed out, and Hux felt the stinging blow on her face, the force of it bending her sideways. Her father may have been dead, and this may only have been a dream, but it still hurt. She'd felt many similar ones before, when she was too small and too scared to resist. But she was no longer small, or scared.

She straightened up as he swung again, her years of training taking over. With strength fueled by anger, she blocked the next blow easily. Ducking beneath his arm, Hux put her weight behind a full-body shove, knocking him into the snow. Her crimson dress blew in the rising wind like a flag.

"You always wished for a son, Father," she hissed. "You resented having to admit to your men that you couldn't sire one, that you had to settle for a daughter in the Academy. That you were forced to train a girl to fulfill your legacy."

He stared at her, as if disbelieving she could raise a hand to him. Hux's body shook in fury.

"But I did what you could not," she said, her lips twisting in a smile. "I bargained with Snoke. I united the fleet. I did it, myself, and I bet that really twisted the knife, didn't it?"

"It will never be enough," he snarled from below her, but his voice was drowned out by the roar in her own ears. She loomed above him, and he suddenly looked pitiful to her, a sad old man too blind to see her triumph. The snow was up to her waist now, but she did not care. If she died here, at least she had made her point.

"I am no longer a child you can strike at will," she spoke evenly, the thrill of pride coursing through her, so hot that she wondered why it didn't melt the snow away. "I am General Hux of the First Order, commander of the _Finalizer_ , and you will not touch me again. Ever."

Her father opened his mouth then, and said, "Time to go home."

Hux stared at him, for his voice had not been his.

"What?"

"Emmeline."

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the newcomer. She was just on the verge of telling the old bastard how she felt. Who was bothering her?

 _Emmeline._

The voice was now in her mind as well as her ears. Hux closed her eyes, dizzy as the flurries of snow swirled around, consuming her in white.

"Leave me alone," she moaned.

 _General..._

"General!"

Her eyes snapped open, and focused on two dark spots in an extremely bright light. She groaned, trying to roll over. Her head and her right shoulder hurt immensely, and the hard surface she was lying on did not help.

"Oh, Madam, we are so glad you're awake!"

Hux grimaced, cracking her eyes open slightly to get used to the light. From the smell of antiseptic and the metallic speech, she knew exactly where she was.

"We shall alert the Lieutenant Generals right away," the medical droid chirped, much too enthusiastically. "I'm sure they will be extremely happy to hear the good news of your recovery."

"Oh, sure," she grumbled, clutching her shoulder and feeling the telltale fullness of a bandage. "They're going to be ecstatic. What time is it?"

"1230 hours standard time," said a new voice, and Hux squinted toward the sound. After a few moments, she made out the fidgety figure of her assistant.

"Selvan," she said bluntly, "I missed my meeting."

The young man's mouth quirked into a smile. "Not exactly, ma'am. I cancelled it upon receiving news of your injury. Are you all right?"

She sat up quickly, ignoring the accompanying dizziness, and glared at him. "I'm not bloody dead, am I? Just a minor mishap."

"I beg pardon," the medical droid tut-tutted from the corner, "but that is an inaccurate description. You were struck in the right temple by a metal railing when the catwalk you were standing on collapsed. You were then thrown fifty feet in the air, landing in the pool, and according to eyewitness accounts, sank to the bottom before being retrieved."

Hux stared, open-mouthed, at the droid. "What?"

Selvan cleared his throat. "Well... General... "

"You have five seconds to report everything you know, Selvan," she warned. "I almost drowned?"

"You did drown, Madam," the medical droid said helpfully. "You were revived only due to Lord Ren's quick thinking. He pumped the water from your-"

Hux sank back onto the cot, putting her head in her hands. "Oh, sweet merciful gods, please tell me the bucket of bolts is mistaken."

"I am far superior technologically to a bucket of bolts," said the droid, rolling toward a gurney with an unmistakable huff in its voice. "The probability of error in my assessment is one in three thousand, seven hundred and fifty nine."

Selvan was clearly trying not to laugh, but wiped the smile from his face when Hux glared at him. He coughed. "I am afraid the droid is correct, ma'am. Multiple witnesses confirm that Commander Ren dove into the pool to rescue you, and then proceeded to administer first aid until help arrived."

Hux bent over, feeling sick. A part of her almost wished she'd died rather than owed her life to Ren. He would never let her live it down.

 _Why the hell did he save me, anyway?_

She lifted her head to find Selvan looking at her expectantly. "Where is he now?"

"I'm not sure, ma'am," he replied with a shrug. "He left as soon as the medical team arrived."

"I see." She cocked her head thoughtfully. Only Ren had ever called her by her first name, and it was his voice she had heard, at the end of her vision.

 _Curious..._

"Get me a change of clothes," she commanded, standing up and gesturing to her medical gown. "I need to meet with Lieutenant Andwel immediately."

Selvan rose as well. "Of course."

"Madam General," the droid beeped indignantly, "I insist you really must rest after such an ordeal."

"I'll rest when I'm dead," Hux said, picking up her comlink from the stool near the cot. "Oh, and after the meeting, let's check on the Resistance prisoner."

Her assistant looked surprised. "I'm certain the team has gotten the information by now. And if not, then Lord Ren certainly has."

She paused in the middle of collecting her belongings, a plan springing to mind. "Keep Ren away from the prisoner for the next few hours. I'll pay him back his favor and interrogate the man myself."

"General," Selvan began warily, "are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Don't be silly," she said, waving him off. "I don't want to owe Ren anything. And we should show him that the First Order doesn't need rescuing in all respects. Am I clear?"

"Transparently," Selvan replied with a short bow. "I'll fetch Andwel."

She nodded, deep in thought. Ren's saving her still did not make sense. In fact, plenty of Lieutenant Generals would die (or kill) for her position. Perhaps one of them would be less abrasive, more easily swayed. Ren should have jumped at the chance.

Shaking her head, she decided to file away that thought for another time. For now, she had work to do.


	5. Tale Three: Parallels (Part II)

**Tales From the Finalizer**

 **By: Lena (Airelle Vilka)**

* * *

 **TALE THREE: Parallels**

 _In which a typical day on the Finalizer becomes anything but._

 **Part II of II**

* * *

 _1500 hours. Detention Center, Cell Block 15._

Poe had been trying, in between what they called "sessions," to loosen his restraints. So far, he'd made some headway with the right foot, and his captors didn't seem to have noticed.

Progress.

They were gone again, leaving him in semi-darkness. His head throbbed terribly from where he'd been struck, the blood drying on his temple. The room was cold and bare of any furniture save for the interrogation chair. Nothing he could use in a fight. He shivered, his own sweat chilling his body.

 _How long have I been here? Hours? Days?_

The drugs they had injected made his mind fuzzy, but Poe was pretty certain he was captive for no longer than a day. Which meant that BB-8 was still out there, and perhaps had some time to find shelter.

He hung his head, his eyes burning with unshed tears. They'd been so close. _I'm so sorry, General Organa. I swear, I will make this right._

The black door at the other end of the room slid open. Poe raised his head, forcing a defiant glare into his eyes, intending to greet his torturers with the worst curses he knew. But the words died in his throat, and he stared as a woman not much older than himself entered the room. She was dressed head to toe in black, with a long synth-wool coat marked with the symbol of the First Order. Poe's eyes followed her as she walked to a wall panel and pressed a button. Above them, the red light of the security camera winked out.

Spitting out blood, he chuckled.

The woman turned to face him. She had a severe sort of beauty, her red hair pulled back to accentuate the sharp angles of her pale face. Her blue eyes regarded him with mild amusement. "Something funny?"

"I get it," Poe said, nodding toward the deactivated camera. "You're the last in line, the last they send in when everyone's failed. The pretty girl who's more brutal than all of them combined. That's why you turned the camera off, isn't it? Because they can't stomach what's about to happen."

The woman's lips rose slightly. She removed her coat, hanging it on a wall hook that Poe hadn't previously noticed. "You seem to have everything figured out, Commander Dameron."

He said nothing; he'd expected them to figure out his identity eventually. He knew it would only prolong his torture, as they'd assume he had other information on the Resistance. And they'd be correct.

"So tell me," she asked, taking a few steps forward, her long strides bringing her to the center of the room. "What does the pretty girl do next?"

"You kill me," Poe spat. "Because I'm not giving you anything."

She shook her head. A blood-red ringlet fell from her styled hair and curled over her temple. "Oh no. That won't do at all," she said, circling his chair at a measured pace, her gaze never leaving him. "You see, I could do many things before I kill you. I could break your legs, for example. I could rip out your teeth, one by one." She paused, her voice now behind him, savoring each word. Poe gritted his teeth, not allowing fear to take him.

She came to stand in front of him again. Her eyes took in his bloody face, and fell to his partially open shirt in contemplation. Her lips pursed, and Poe thought he saw a look of disgust cross her face. "Fortunately for you, I'm not an animal," she finally said. "I don't delight in pain."

Poe barked a bitter laugh, his head gesturing to the contraption that rendered him immobile. "Could have fooled me."

She shrugged. "Some things are necessary to achieve a noble goal."

Poe couldn't help himself in the face of such callousness. He was dead, anyway.

"Is that what you tell yourself?" he snapped angrily, straining against his bonds. "When the First Order slaughters thousands of innocents? Is that how you sleep at night?"

For the first time, the woman looked at him with interest. "In war, casualties are inevitable. Regrettable, yes. But inevitable."

"You're nothing but murderers," he retorted, "wrapped in pretty words."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is that so?"

Poe did not reply as she came closer. The night on Jakku, he had witnessed Kylo Ren's power, saw the barely restrained rage boiling through the warrior as he cut down Lor San Tekka. This woman was no different, and Poe saw the shadows darken around her, saw the blaze in her eyes, burning behind a core of icy control. This was no mere soldier, or a blood-crazed torturer. This was...

She stopped within a foot of him, easily as tall as him even from the elevated position of the chair. Their eyes were level, and in the blue sea behind her lashes, Poe saw flecks of gold.

"Have you ever seen a forest fire, Commander Dameron?" she asked in a whisper, her face dangerously close to his. "I think you have, raised as you were on Yavin IV. The ground must be razed completely for new shoots to grow from the ashes."

Poe swallowed thickly, his words stuck in his throat as the force of her gaze impaled him. Her voice was vicious, black like ember as she continued. "You should know. Your precious Republic did the same thing, thirty years ago."

He found his voice. "We don't hurt the innocent."

The woman laughed, throwing her head back. He could see that her gloved fists were clenched. "You are either grossly naïve or blindingly stupid. In the year before the Galactic Concordance, the Republic torched anything that was remotely connected to the Empire, even those places that it had no business touching."

Poe's eyes widened as she leaned close again, her words leaving her tongue in sharp, deadly bursts. Behind her mouth, the white teeth were bared in anger. "The Academies, with all their students. Didn't read about _that_ in your books, did you?"

He could not reply, not in the face of such fury.

"The Republic," she sneered, "is a regime of disorder, a pack of bloated, corrupt ruffians."

It could only be personal. _The Academies_ , she had said. He'd heard of one person in the First Order who had strong family ties to the Imperial Academy on Arkanis. A ruthless young officer, daughter of an Imperial Commandant.

"Impotent and unworthy of rule," she continued, anger blazing unchecked in her eyes. "I intend to rectify that."

And suddenly, Poe knew.

"General Hux," he breathed, their lips only fingerbreadths apart.

Her name seemed to bring her back from whatever madness gripped her. The fire receded from her eyes like a tide, and she glanced down between them. Before he knew what was happening, she reached down and tightened the loose restraint around his foot.

 _Damn_.

"We wouldn't want this to break," she said from below him. "I hope you don't mind."

Poe's chances of escape were rapidly dwindling. He decided to go for broke, maybe even goad her into killing him quickly. And in his experience, there was only one way to make a woman like Hux very angry, very fast.

He put as much mockery into his tone as possible. "You look a lot better on your knees."

Her head slowly rose from her position to look up at him. But instead of rage, Poe was surprised to see amusement in her eyes. Slowly, she rose, deliberately using his body to help herself. When she was fully upright, her hand did not leave his belt. Suddenly, Poe reconsidered the course of action he'd taken.

"If you're trying to get a rise out of me," she smiled, "be aware that I may reciprocate."

Her hand slipped down, and gripped him _hard_. Poe almost yelped, his breath catching in his lungs, his body confused as it tried to respond with both flight and arousal.

With her other hand, she brushed his sweaty curls from his forehead, the touch almost gentle.

"I don't like wasting life," she said thoughtfully, her fingers continuing their ministration and, to Poe's horror, achieving their intended goal. "Your talents would go a long way with us, Dameron. We will win, eventually. You might as well fly for the winning side."

He gritted his teeth, willing his brain to banish the awful thoughts he was having right now about this woman, and what he wanted her to do to him. The very idea made him both aroused and sick.

"Being the winning side," he finally managed, "doesn't make you right."

Abruptly, she released him, the warmth of her hand lingering on his body. "And if you want us to lose," she murmured, "well... that will be difficult. You've seen what Lord Ren is capable of."

He remembered how he'd shot at the dark figure, only to have the bolt stop in mid-air. Poe remembered stories about Vader, but he'd never heard of anything like what he saw that night.

Hux seemed to read his mind, and nodded. "Only one person in the galaxy could potentially defeat Kylo Ren," she said. "But he must be forced out of hiding to do it."

 _Luke Skywalker_.

"So in fact," the General continued, her tone now entirely casual, "it is in your best interest to give us the map. It's the only chance the Resistance has, really. Help us, and I will spare your life."

Poe ignored the temptation of her offer, and thought of his parents, Shara Bey and Kes Dameron, who had given up everything in their fight against the Empire. The woman before him was strong; but she knew nothing of suffering, or of sacrifice. She would not sway him.

"I think I'll pass," he replied, looking her in the eyes, meeting the ice-blue gaze with equal ferocity.

After a moment, she sighed. "I thought you might." She retrieved her coat from the wall and faced him, hands clasped behind her back, the picture of the perfect, aloof officer once again. "You Resistance idiots are all the same. Brash and utterly without vision."

He didn't respond as she pressed a button on the door. Her head turned slightly so he could see her profile, the red hair bright in the industrial lights.

"A word of advice," she said. "The one who comes after me won't be as pleasant. I suggest you give him what he wants, and in return, I'll grant you a painless death. It seems to be all you're good for."

Then, Poe was once again alone.

* * *

 _1530 hours. Quarters of General Emmeline Hux._

Hux leaned over the sink, fighting the nausea that was threatening to consume her. Over and over, she splashed water viciously on her face, letting the cool streams dribble down her neck and seep into her uniform. The action seemed to absorb some of her anger, but did little to mitigate the disgust she felt.

She straightened up, ripping her towel from its hook. Why did she touch that prisoner? Especially in such an intimate way?

She grimaced, wiping her face furiously as if she were erasing the memory. The move had not been planned; nor had she planned to lose her cool and talk about the Order so much. Dameron's self-righteousness, in all its stupidity, would not normally rattle her; but today, she'd been angry, and had lost control, like a novice trainee. And to manifest it in _that_ way...

 _What in blazes came over me?_

Hux hated chaos in all its forms, and inner turmoil was no different. It had persisted even after she had left the detention center and the prisoner behind. Despite the iron mask of indifference she'd put on for Poe, she knew from the faces of her officers that she didn't look right. Thus, she had retreated to her quarters, tearing a path through the _Finalizer_ that was more reminiscent of Kylo Ren than Emmeline Hux.

It didn't help that Dameron had been handsome, and cocky even in his predicament, and his tone was so much like-

 _Emmeline, you damn idiot,_ she growled mentally as she exited the fresher into her bedroom. _Just stop already._

Two steps into the room, she halted dead in her tracks, and felt her face grow hot at the sight of her uninvited guest. "Oh, not _you_."

Kylo Ren sat on her bed, arms draped casually across his knees. His helmet lay by his hip, sinking into her sheets. His head was tilted to the side, expectantly, black curls falling into his eyes. He looked boyishly handsome, disarming, and thoroughly infuriating.

"Welcome back," he said, "to the land of the living."

Hux didn't allow her surprise at the rare glimpse of his face to slow her down. She knew he was here because of her distress. With his preternatural sensitivity to her emotions, it may as well have been broadcasted through the ship. "If you've come to gloat," she snapped, "do it and get out."

His black eyes narrowed under thick eyebrows. The dangerous flash was accompanied by a tremble in her bedside chronometer. "Watch your tone, General. My patience has limits."

Hux snorted, not the least bit afraid (a tack that, she would later admit, was probably foolish). "Thanks for the revelation."

Ren's eyes followed her as she stomped to her storage alcove, poured herself a double shot of Corellian liqueur, and downed it in a single gulp.

"The prisoner's mind was easy to enter," he volunteered from the bed as Hux poured again, her hand trembling. "He was suitably rattled, I could feel it. What did you say to him?"

She whipped around, eyes flashing, the tumbler dangling from her hand. "You're the mind reader," she challenged. "Go ahead, I'm giving you permission."

Ren's eyebrow rose, clearly surprised at her suggestion. Undeterred, Hux barreled onward.

"Do it," she said again, willing him to dive in, and drown in her self-loathing. "Don't you enjoy this sort of thing, Kylo Ren?"

After a pause, he looked her in the eyes, and Hux felt a gentle brush against her mind, as if someone were tickling the inside of her skull. She stood her ground, staring at him, not willing to relent or turn away. Inviting him into her head was probably stupid, but she was sick of hiding her emotions, and poured them out at him from behind their usual dam.

After a moment, she felt him pull away, like a receding dream. His lips were twisted in concentration. His eyes, dark and thoughtful, settled on her.

"You gave too much of yourself to the interrogation," he finally spoke, sounding much too calm for her liking. Almost like a teacher. "An unwise thing to do, in your state."

"And what state is that?" she hissed, setting down her glass and ripping off her overcoat; the alcohol and her fury had made her feel unbearably hot. "A few bruises and a concussion don't render me incapable of doing my job."

He eyed the coat, which was now on the floor, a visible affront to Hux's usual tidiness. "Then why do you look more distraught than your prisoner?"

She approached the bed and leaned down, her face close to his. She hoped he smelled the alcohol on her breath; knew he hated the taste of it. "Get. Out."

He should have flinched at her tone. But he did not. In fact, he looked as expressionless as his mask. "I don't think so, General," he said. "I know why you are so unsettled. I saw your vision, of the garden, and your father."

She straightened up, moving away from him toward the other end of the room, unable to stop herself from yelling. "How dare you? Sithspit, is nothing sacred to you? My father was a great man, a warrior and a true paragon of Imperial values!"

She turned around to see him stand up. He walked closer to her, every word shoving her backwards as effectively as if it had been his hand. "A great man," he repeated, a dark look on his face. "Who hit little girls to make himself feel better. Who ignored his child's brilliance for his own selfish reasons. Who wished you were never born."

Hux narrowed her eyes, trying to ignore his words. He knew nothing about her. And yet, it was as if he had been inside her memories, and perhaps he had. Maybe, he had seen the lonely nights at the Academy, when she was thirteen and cried alone in the moonlight that filtered into her room. Maybe, he had seen how the other officers were proud of their sons, how they gave them words of praise and encouragement, and how the only time her father acknowledged her was when she failed his expectations of greatness. How he had not been present at her victory at the cadet combat tournament. How he always loved her sister Kevyn for her resemblance to Mother, and had barely looked her way.

Had Ren seen it all, just now? Had he ventured to places in her mind where he was not welcome? Had he glimpsed the small, sad girl that she had silenced long ago?

He was in front of her now, his large frame almost pinning her to the wall. "I know all about bad fathers, Emmeline," he said, a merciless chill in his voice. "He was weak."

Before she knew it, Hux swung a punch, aiming for his face. Anticipating the attack, he seized her wrist; snarling, she struggled, but his grip was an iron vice. He raised her shaking hand to his face, and examined it thoughtfully before turning his eyes back to her.

"He _was_ weak," he repeated. "But you're not."

She glared at him, feeling the alcohol and the heat from his ungloved palm seep into her wrist. "Snoke was right," he said. "Your core is truly something to admire. You are buried in ice, yet you burn."

"Let me go." Her effort, however, was not strong and she knew it. Her anger seemed to fizzle into ash at his touch, and even the curious mention of Snoke fled her mind. Ren was looking at her as if she were the only thing in the universe, and it both frightened and enthralled her.

"Such darkness," he whispered, his eyes boring into hers, as if he were reading the wall behind her head. "Like the black hole of a dying star. All-consuming. It is fascinating, General."

"You know nothing about me," she said, giving up on trying to escape his hold, and instead looking up at him, her face defiant in the assault of his impaling gaze.

He nodded in agreement. "I don't know details, but I don't need to. By the will of the Force, I see much more than you realize. So much more."

His hand released hers, and he stepped closer, forcing her back into the wall. His fingers trailed down her arms, wrinkling the fabric of her shirtsleeves, leaving strange (and not entirely unpleasant) sensations in their wake. Before they reached her waist, Hux found her voice.

"Watch your hands, Ren," she whispered. "Or I'll have the Supreme Leader remind you where they belong."

His head tilted forward, his forehead touching hers, dark curls brushing her cheeks. He smelled like smoke, and pine, and something else that made the whole room spin. Hux tried to sink into the wall, but it did not yield and neither did he, his tall body now flush with hers, his full lips parted, his breath hot and ragged. He looked like a man possessed.

"Why don't you show me where they belong... General?"

Hux was suddenly very aware of how solid he was. _Down here, they belong down here,_ her body sang, and she flushed with anger, and something else entirely.

"Touching that Resistance fighter disgusted you," Ren continued, his voice sending a shudder through her. "He is beneath you, unworthy. What if I were in that chair?"

Her mouth went dry at the image, however improbable it might be. The idea of him, usually so arrogant, stripped of power and at her mercy... Thoughts she didn't even know existed in her head suddenly bubbled to the surface, burning her skin and threatening combustion.

This was wrong, he was not meant to unnerve her, and she was totally ignoring any sense of self-preservation. He must have sensed it, for his smile was feral.

"What if _you_ were?" he mused, and now she could clearly feel the evidence of his arousal, warm and strong against her leg. "Would you like me to show you?"

And without warning, a flood of images broke through her eyes and invaded her mind. Instead of Poe Dameron, it was she who was held prisoner, and Ren stood before her, dark and fierce, all the fury of their rivalry now focused on one thing. She saw him hitch her leg over his shoulder, his hands digging into her hips as he drove into her, first deep and slow, then working up speed with the reckless abandon that was his trademark.

He was her competitor, a constant vexation in her daily life. Was this the truth she'd been denying? Was their rivalry a mere preamble to this?

She opened her eyes, just then realizing they'd been closed. Immediately, she met his gaze, and he held it as an odd sensation crawled up her thigh. Her eyes widened, understanding his intentions just before he found what he sought. Hux threw back her head, opening her mouth wordlessly as he filled her without touching her.

 _Too many clothes,_ her mind screamed at her, _too many. Fix this._

"Do you want me to break the ice?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers. Still on her hips, his fingers twitched, and the invisible but very tangible power inside her _curled_. Hux gasped, her eyes almost rolling to the back of her skull from the sensation. "Do you want me to bring your darkness to the surface? I can."

She could not respond, and he lowered his head and took her mouth, his tongue slipping past the surprised 'o' of her lips. He drank deeply from her, and she did not fight against the onslaught. His lips were as soft as she'd imagined ( _had_ she imagined it, that often?); he felt warm and heady like liquor, sick and deranged and dangerous, and she welcomed him inside despite her better judgment. It was glorious; she melted into him, clinging to his chest, allowing his heat to permeate her very being.

They broke apart, needing air, and she shook in his arms as he came close again, his lips hovering above hers. "Say it, Emmeline."

She stared at him, not able to talk, feeling their mutual rage and power meld together in a cauldron of flame.

He persisted, his voice on the verge of breaking, thick and needy, his eyes black pools. "Tell me to fuck you. Say it."

 _Oh yes, gods yes, Ren, please._

But instead, she tried to speak, once, twice; and then succeeded. "I need..."

He looked at her, waiting, hungry. It took everything she had to continue speaking.

"I need... the ice," she finished.

The waves of Ren's desire trembled, his gaze questioning, head cocked. Hux swallowed, and pressed on, dousing the flames in her mind with cold reason.

"You want to break it," she said, her breath mingling with his. "Like you broke all your chains. But to lead the Order... I can't be like you, Ren. I can't let go."

The wall of fire between them shuddered, and she felt him retreat from her body. Cringing at the sudden emptiness, Hux wrenched her emotions to the surface, willing him to understand how much she wanted this, and how much she needed something else entirely. "We are two sides of the same coin," she explained. "We both serve Snoke, but in different ways. And he needs both of us to remain as we are. Do you understand? This cannot happen again."

Ren opened his mouth to speak, but he never got the chance as the comlink on Hux's wrist flared to life in a volley of urgent beeps.

"General Hux." The lieutenant on the other end sounded breathless. "You're needed on the bridge at once. There is an unsanctioned TIE fighter departure from the main hangar."

The remainder of the moment crumbled as reality set in. Hux shoved Ren aside, her eyes wide. "What?"

"We believe the Resistance prisoner has commandeered-"

"Get the cannons powered!" she yelled into the receiver, grabbing her coat from the floor and donning it hastily. "Do not let them escape!"

She headed to the door, turning around briefly to glance at Ren. He was still leaning on the wall where he'd held her, looking unsettled and slightly angry. She threw him an exasperated look, and silenced her comlink briefly.

"Let's go," she insisted, and after a moment of torturous silence, he followed.

* * *

 _2145 hours. Control room, Hangar 7._

Ren stood in front of the destroyed control panel, watching the fiery gashes from his lightsaber fade to black scars. The underling he'd briefly choked had scrambled away a while ago, and no one else was stupid enough to bother him.

Of course the fools were incompetent, and lost the droid. And now, he would have to explain the failure to Snoke.

He leaned on the charred console, fingers tightening on the durasteel. It would not be prudent to be so angry when facing his master. And, despite his outward calm, Ren was still furious, both from the loss of the droid and from his earlier encounter with Hux.

He remembered the way she'd trembled under his hands, the hitch in her breath. He understood Snoke's point now, about her passion. Certainly, having Hux as a willing ally rather than a grudging rival would be good. Having her in his bed and under his influence would be even better. He had set out with a plan to conquer her, but the sight of her undone had robbed him of control, and Ren knew he would have taken her right there against the wall, protests be damned.

Yet she was the one who had regained reason and stopped them. And then, she had retreated back into her castle of ice, once again untouchable and incomprehensible and infuriating.

 _"I can't be like you,"_ she'd said.

She wasn't supposed to have done that. He had the Dark Side as his ally. She was supposed to have given in.

 _I have to hurt something._

Before he knew what he was doing, he was in front of the elevator, his feet taking him to the lower levels, beyond the training areas and toward the arena used for target practice. He was reasonably sure no one would be around at this hour, most of the officers having retired to their quarters for the evening. All the better.

* * *

 _2200 hours. Target practice arena._

The arena was always lit and ready for use, and Hux took a deep breath as she entered the huge, silent space. By the far wall, a conveyor system spit out targets of various sizes to the faux-green field in the center. She paused by the console and turned on the mechanism, watching as a dozen human-shaped targets were placed about a hundred yards from the shooting line.

Checking the charge in her blaster, she willed her hands to stop shaking. The day had been eventful, to say the least, and she would have to face Ren eventually over the failure of retrieving the droid. But she dreaded that conversation less than the one that would inevitably follow.

Heartless as the late Brendol Hux was, he had a point about leadership. It would be easy to let a man like Ren distract her. Today only proved how dangerously distracting he could be. Her insides coiled at the memory of his body and his devouring gaze, his kiss, how close she'd been to throwing her carefully cultivated caution to the wind. If their response to each other today was anything to go by, then he would become her undoing. No; her focus needed to stay absolute. Especially now, when the First Order was so close to victory.

She lined up her shot, aiming for the first target. Her mind was still floundering, calling the memories of Ren to the surface. Hux paused again, scowling, pushing the thoughts away.

Oh, but how deliciously _hard_ he had been.

" _Fuck_ ," she growled, shaking her head as if she could dislodge the image. This was becoming ridiculous. She was no teenage girl to be so affected; but then again, she had not slept with a man in a long time, and Ren was no ordinary man. Hux wondered if he'd left a parasitic presence inside her with the Force, seducing her from within, and she shuddered.

Only two options remained available. Hide in her quarters and take care of her own needs, or shoot targets into tiny shreds until she was spent. Hux had dismissed the first option as too dangerous; Ren seemed to be tuned into her thoughts, and the last thing she needed was to call out his name during... that. He didn't need more ammunition.

She was going to require more than a dozen targets, clearly.

She aimed the blaster again, and squeezed the trigger. A rush of satisfaction poured into her body, some of her pent-up energy releasing with the bolt.

The target exploded, sham limbs flying in all directions. Hux almost jumped in surprise, watching the pieces land across the field in sad little tatters. She stared at her blaster curiously. _"_ What the hell?"

Another bang really did make her jump, and she stepped back as the next target burst. Her eyes quickly scanned the firing line, but she seemed to be alone.

 _But I'm not alone, am I?_

She looked across the large room, to the other end of the field. And sure enough, a dark figure, hood pulled up over his helmet, stood directly across from her, within range of her blaster shots.

Hux stared at him for a few seconds, wondering if he had followed her on purpose. He raised a hand, and another of her targets became a dark stain on the field.

Then, she understood, and fired again.

This time, as his power broke the target into pieces, Hux continued to fire at each of them, hitting the severed arms and legs in turn before they landed. As one, they moved down the range, repeating the process with each target. Every blaster shot released a bit of Hux's energy, and she wondered if, across the field, Ren felt the same.

When they reached the end of the firing line, Hux activated the console and brought a dozen more targets into view. Again they moved together, blasting the plastisteel into ribbons from opposite ends of the field. Gradually, Hux's shots became less nervous and more sure. By the time they reached the end again, she did not miss a single one.

She lost track of time, pausing only to reload her blaster, allowing her body to release all her frustration until nothing but the target remained, and her mindless need to destroy it. Smoke hovered over the arena, and if she didn't know better, Hux would have said a battle had ravaged the ground. Finally, sweating from exertion, she stopped at the end of the range, leaning on her thighs as life came back into her fingers from their death grip on the trigger. She laughed, feeling the much-needed freedom from her emotions, from her father and Ren and the First Order. In this moment, she was just Emmeline Hux, markswoman.

She glanced up, intending to make a snarky comment on Ren's technique, something to break the silence that had heretofore reigned between them. But when she looked across the field, he was gone.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Hux holstered her blaster, turned, and came face to face with his helmet. She almost screamed, for he had made no noise, and the speed with which he'd crossed the arena was not human. He towered over her, the weight of his presence dark and menacing, and it was during moments like this that she remembered who, and what, he really was.

He made no move to touch her, however. He just stood there, inches away, not speaking, his breaths soft through the modulator. Hux stared back, her body shrieking at her to either step away or ask him to take her to bed. She ignored both impulses, for she neither feared nor loved him, and would not act accordingly.

As they stood there, she knew he was testing her resolve, like a predator facing off for territory. Hux remembered the taste of his kiss, the deep, languid strokes of his tongue inside her mouth, and could not believe that the sinister figure before her was the same man. She continued to stand her ground, looking up at him. He would have to accept the arrangement on her terms, or kill her. No other options existed for the two of them.

Silence dragged on, and Hux was sure she did not blink the entire time. The dark slit of his mask gave away nothing, and she could see her reflection in it, pale but determined. Any moment, she was expecting the flash of his lightsaber, and an end to her short but accomplished life.

Finally, Ren seemed to get what he sought, and the taut string between them broke as he turned away. The edge of his cloak brushed the front of her uniform, and Hux followed him with her eyes until he disappeared through the side door. More than once, she almost called out his name, to ask what was in his head. But she thought better of it, and he did not turn back.

Taking some deep breaths, Hux released her grip on her blaster. The blood rushed back into her fingertips, reminding her starkly of her mortality.

Sighing and taking one last glance at the destruction on the firing range, she started the slow trek back to her quarters. Tonight only proved that she needed to be careful around him, now more than ever.

* * *

Author's Note: My song for this chapter was "Control" by Halsey. It pretty much is Emmeline and Ren in a nutshell. Like the story? Review and let me know! :)


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